Ancient Words
by supernaturalmommy
Summary: The guys are thrust right back into a new hunt, as a new evil threatens them and their new friends. Things aren’t always as they seem, and fledgling powers and innocence might not be enough to fight it. But what will it take? SEQUEL to:Look Into His Eyes
1. Prologue

_**Ancient Words** - **Prologue**_  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG-13 now but overall R: Language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** Follows directly on the heels of _Look Into His Eyes_. Now everyone is trying to deal with the aftermath of thier fight with a demon. But in the process of dealing, a new evil threatens them all.

_**PROLOGUE**__**  
**_

_A mighty warrior stood guard, his giant body solid and wings unfurled in brilliance. His stance was guarded, tensed and waiting. _

_Those he protected attracted much evil. He had already destroyed many wicked spirits while he stood guard over the hunters. _

_He knew that they would need their strength for the battle to come, for they were in the middle. It was yet beginning, but Heaven was watching, unsure yet if the skirmish would become an epic fight with Hell._

_The small child in the next room was key: His sister as well. Both of them held power, strengthened by their faith. But the hunters - they held raw power, pure. _

_The hunters had a role to play on the side of the angels. Yet they had no faith. Curious._

_The warrior's thoughts were interrupted by a change in the room. Slight. Barely discernable. His eyes narrowed as he studied the room from his perch above. His body tensed, senses on high alert._

_Then he saw it: a black , almost vaporous form mixed in with the shadows, trying to creep unannounced to torment the brothers. _

_Mika'el advanced on the malevolent spirit that skulked along the floorboards. One strike with his mighty sword and the creature was gone. None of the spirits he had destroyed had presented a challenge to the formidable soldier._

_He thanked the Lord for his good fortune and again surveyed the brothers, his lips curling upwards. The smirk looked out of place on the chiseled angelic features._

_These humans intrigued him. _

_He knew they were good, courageous. He knew also that they were exceptional hunters. And, he knew they had been fighting against the supernatural evil in their world for a while already, with great success. _

_He was quite impressed, actually; Just wish they believed in his Lord. He wondered if they believed in angels, even. Doubtful._

_He leaned his shoulder against the wall of the hospital room, keeping steady vigil. His gaze flicked protectively towards the bed, where the hunter called Sam was sleeping fitfully. Something was tormenting the younger brother. And it wasn't supernatural. _

_He could protect the brothers from only so much. Their own inner demons and fears were their own to conquer. He watched as the elder brother awoke to study the younger. _

_Mika'el grinned softly, admiring the elder's protectiveness. The being knew the younger was normally quite capable of taking care of himself, but he also knew that the younger brother would need protecting for the battle to come. He was in danger. More danger than either brother realized. _

_Though the group spread over these two rooms had won the last battle, their victory had helped create a new evil in human form. Now a wicked man was spinning out of control. And that man____Mika'el shook his head. He stopped that thought. _

_The Lord's will would be done. _

_Mika'el's eyes glittered in divine determination. He prayed Heaven could win the coming battle._

_Otherwise, the end would come very soon. _

_Very soon indeed.  
_

* * *

Dean sighed. 

This was getting old. Sam was still sleeping, and he was getting bored.

Sam woke up briefly late last night when Bobby came in for a visit. Whatever holy mojo the little guy laid on his brother helped him break free of unconsciousness, but within minutes Sam had been exhausted and fallen into a deep sleep.

Bobby was something else. Dean shook his head.

The little guy had ganged up,_with_ Sam, against him. Bobby really thought he needed to tell Dean not to call his own brother Sammy. Hilarious.

And with a huge grin, Sammy had gone along with it. Letting Bobby know he could call him Sammy, but he didn't really like it when Dean did. Little brother sure had it coming for that one.

But that was hours ago.

And he really needed a chance to talk to his brother. He needed desperately to know he was going to be okay.

The doctor had already been in: swelling in the left frontal lobe - that was the most significant injury they still needed to observe. The repercussions echoed through Dean's head. Depending on what section of the brain the pressure affected, Sammy could have any number of things wrong with him.

The doctor had assured him it would _hopefully_ be temporary. Maybe his little brother would just beat the odds and nothing would be wrong at all. Maybe once the swelling went down, his Sammy would be back. And maybe pigs would fly.

Being a Winchester about guaranteed Sam wouldn't have an easy time of it. But he could hope.

Until his brother woke up and spoke with him, he could hope for the best. So it was with concern he noted how fitfully his brother was starting to sleep. Man, couldn't he go without the nightmares for just a little while?

He reached forward and grasped Sam's hand, hoping the contact might help calm him. When it didn't, he couldn't help getting more anxious.

Dean sighed again. The minutes ticked by and he felt silly holding Sam's hand like a freaking girl. He let go, missing the warmth, wishing there was another way he could offer that small bit of strength to Sam.

This was taking too long. He just wanted answers.

"Dean." Somehow he had missed those green eyes opening, lost in his thoughts. He mentally kicked himself and peered closely at his brother. He sighed in relief when he saw recognition.

"How you feeling there, Sammy?" he grinned, holding his breath as he waited for his brother to say anything.

"You're such a prick, Dean." What? Dean studied Sammy as his eyes opened in shock, surprised to see his brother look almost as shocked as he felt.

"What?" Dean looked around the room, thinking he must have missed something. He looked back to study his brother. Sammy still looked a little shocked.

Then something seemed to click; it seemed Sam remembered the train of thoughts that had started his Dean-bashing session.

"I told you I don't want you to call me that!" He paused long enough to catch his breath, and started again. "What, you think you have the right to call me whatever you want? What if I called you Deanie every time I wanted to? It would get old, right? You wouldn't like it."

Sam stared furiously at his brother.

He turned his head away.

Dean knew he looked about as shell-shocked as he felt. He couldn't believe Sammy . . . Sam . . . got _that_ upset over a stupid nickname. He only used it because, well. . . to be quite the chick, it made him feel good.

When Sam turned back to face him, his breath caught. His little brother's face had crumpled. Eyes spilled over with tears and they fell unbidden down his face. He looked like he had lost his best friend.

"Oh man, Dean, I'm so sorry." Sam closed his eyes and swallowed. And swallowed again. "I don't know where that came from, or why I got so upset. Man, I don't even really care . . ."

He trailed off, sniffling. His lip quivered. He reminded Dean of a little Sammy from long ago.

"I just give you a hard time about it because, well" Here Sam looked unflinchingly into his brother's eyes. "It's what I'm supposed to do. It makes me feel good."

He laughed, then rested his head in his hands.

"I can't believe that. What is going on with me" He looked up to meet Dean's still shocked eyes. "I feel like such a chick."

"Sammy . . . Sam, it's okay. The doctor said you might have trouble for a while." At Sam's look of utter confusion, he explained further. "You really bashed your head. You've got swelling in your frontal lobe. The left side. It can make it hard to control what you say."

He paused and grinned.

"It can make you act like a chick too." Sam's eyes filled with fresh tears and Dean groaned inwardly. Man. "It'll be okay, man. The doctor said that it would go away as the swelling went down. Within the next few days."

"Really? You're not just saying that?" He gave Dean _those_ eyes.

Dean swore to himself. That was unfair. The kid should not be able to pull those eyes out at whim.

"I mean it, Sam. It'll be okay. I promise." Dean patted his brother's hand. He was surprised when Sam leaned forward and about pulled Dean onto the bed as he jerked him into a full body hug.

"I love you man." Okay, he was getting the front of his shirt wet. He could feel Sam sniffling against his chest . . . still crying? Dean looked frantically around the room and groaned when he could find no magic means of ending this 'moment'.

"I love you so much" Okay, this was weird. He remembered the doctor saying it would seem scary and overwhelming to Sam. But this? This overwhelming? Another sob rocked him and Sam snuggled closer in a really uncomfortably cute way.

"UhSam? Dude! Come on. You're getting my shirt wet." Sniffling pathetically, Sam pulled away. He turned his head to the side.

"Sorry, man." He pulled at a loose thread on the sheet, not meeting Dean's eyes.

He turned his head back around to face Dean. But the expression on his face was one of terror. Dean gripped his hand.

"Sam?" He watched as his brother's eyes watered and his head locked down and to the side. He was still watching in shock as his brother started moving his right arm. He pulled it up against his body and it trembled there, frozen in position. Within seconds, he started drooling and his breathing started to hitch. That was when Dean pushed the nurse's button.

He tried to look Sam in the eye as his head and then his right arm started to jerk rhythmically. The dead expression in his brother's eyes terrified him.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean couldn't help it. He screamed his brother's name.

This was the other symptom. The one he hadn't wanted to really think about.

Seizure.

* * *

OK ... so this is posted in my LiveJournal and I included an introduction when I started posting the fic there. I think it helps introduce the story to folks ... both those who've read before (or the prequel), and those who are just now joining us. Basically, this story is about far more than meets the eyes. There's an undercurrent and parallel plot I'm weaving into the storyline: what makes a person strong? What gives them inner strength? Whether it's faith in something, love for someone, belief in luck, whatever it is ... what keeps a person going? What happens when that is challenged? When it's tested? I've taken the opportunity to do something not often done in Supernatural fic by using my OC's to look at how religion can play a part in the supernatural, and in how people deal with the supernatural (um ... suspending doubts for the sake of the fic, here!). 

I'm interested in seeing how many different myths you notice sprinkled throughout the fic, both about religion, autism, special needs in general, dealing with "angels" and all. I used a BUNCH of them! Yes, this fic has a heavy religious theme - almost entirely because of the OC's I'm utilizing. While it's an integral part of the storyline, I don't think you have to agree with the viewpoint presented to enjoy reading at all.

I'm updating at my LJ, working on other fics, and editing/betaing as well. If I shirk my updating duties give me a poke! Reviews are great for my morale, but they also help prod me along. grin

With all that out of the way ... I hope you enjoy reading _Ancient Words_ and find something to take away from the tale.

**_---Kat _**


	2. Ch 1 Unknown Dangers

**Title/Chapter:** Look Into His Eyes - Ch. 1 Visions  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean (no pairings), OFC (no romantic interests), OMC (child)  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG-13: Language, mild violence and hurt/comfort  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summery:** Sam's visions lead them to help a brother and sister who are in danger. But things aren't always as they appear.  
**Authors Notes:** This is a completed story, and the first of a few stories that are part of a series. Re-edited and re-formatted. Give it a try - and I'd love to know what you think!

_**Chapter 1**_

Annie rubbed her eyes tiredly and eased away from her brother's hospital bed.

Bobby was finally moved into a private room early in the morning, following their visit with the Winchesters. She was still in a bit of awe over what her brother had done there.

She shook her head. Who knew that her brother had that much power? She looked at the small huddled form asleep on the bed and decided it wasn't power so much as blind faith, and innocence.

His prayers were special. Not just because of the ancient words he used, but because of how he wove the words together. She had known he was exceptionally gifted. But the proof of his true potential still overwhelmed her.

She laughed silently.

Who would have ever guessed it possible? She glanced back at the small slip of boy. He couldn't even speak very well generally, but had perfect Latin pronunciation. At seven years old, he had memorized more of the Bible than most pastors - in at least two languages, no less.

Since their parents' deaths just over three weeks ago, he had been a shell of his former self. He used to be a happy, easy to love child. He loved to learn about things. But overnight, with his parents gone, the little boy had turned inward. He used more self-soothing behavior than ever before: rocking, tearing things, covering his ears, and patting his leg. Of more of a concern, however, was how easily he seemed to melt down. He would lose control and at times even start hitting himself.

She knew it was a coping mechanism. Because of the autism, he felt things differently and reacted to stress in the only way he knew how: he retreated into his own little world.

Surprisingly, his kidnapping hadn't pushed him further away. Instead, in the brief time she'd had with him, he spoke more and allowed her physically closer to him than ever before. He had obviously gotten close to Sam. She grinned to herself. The tall, skinny guy in the next room had really connected with her brother.

She was grateful to Sam, more than she could ever say. She knew Sam had done everything he could to keep her brother calm and safe. The only reason Sam was even taken along with her brother was because he had tried to stop Mr. Larkin from kidnapping Bobby.

She hadn't been surprised last night when her brother had wanted to see Sam. She had even been secretly pleased he tried to manipulate the situation, bartering with the doctor to get his way. It was more interest than he had shown in several weeks towards anyone or anything outside his own little world.

She looked over at her brother again, looking so peaceful in sleep and felt thankful. _Thanks for keeping him safe, Lord_

Her thoughts abruptly came to a stop at the guttural scream from next door.

"Sam!"

She frowned. That sounded like Dean. Throwing another look over her shoulder at her still sleeping brother, she left to go next door.

"Sammy, come on, man..." Annie stopped short at the raw emotion in the man's voice as she entered the room. She couldn't tell what had happened, but Sam looked . . . bad.

Two nurses were by the bed, trying to keep the tall man safe and checking vital signs. Another stood by Dean, hand against his mid-section in a losing battle to keep the man back from his brother.

She watched as he shoved the woman's arm gently away and stalked over to the bed. He took his brother's left hand. It looked like his right arm was jerking and his head was trembling, almost jerking as well. Except his head seemed twisted at a weird angle.

A seizure. Oh no. She studied Dean. He was barely holding it together. His bottom lip was shaking slightly and a dazed look was on his face as he pleaded softly for his brother to be okay.

"He's been seizing for five minutes now, page the on-call and put a call into Dr. Hale. See what he wants us to do." Seconds later, a calm voice over the intercom asked for assistance to room 214, stat, from all available attendings.

As the room started to fill with more nurses and two doctors came in to start barking orders, Annie walked over to Dean. He was still staring in shock at his brother. Sam's face was turning gray, and his lips were turning blue.

Annie placed her hand gently on Dean's shoulder.

"Dean, why don't we stand back and let the doctors do their job?" He glanced up at her. She swallowed back the gasp at the lost look in his eyes, the tears that shimmered in his red-rimmed eyes. She turned to glare at a nurse who tried to push them aside.

"This is his brother here, have a little compassion." At her tone, the nurse shifted her eyes and stepped to the side, reaching around them to check the numbers on the monitor behind them. Annie sighed, and turned back to face Dean.

"Come on, we'll stay right over here until they're able to help him. They'll take care of him." She pulled gently on his arm with both of hers. He moved sluggishly, haltingly away from his brother. She guided him to sit in the high-back chair in the corner of the room and stood next to him.

She knew he wasn't the type to normally accept comfort. But she didn't think he was used to seeing his brother this vulnerable. Seizures were scary. And it looked like Sam was going into a doozy. He had even stopped breathing. She closed her eyes. An empathetic tear rolled down her cheek.

_Dear Lord, please protect and help heal Sam. Whatever is causing this seizure, I just pray that you would help it to stop. Give Dean __strength__ and comfort his soul. I __don't__ think he can take anything hurting his brother. Please help him, God. _

She opened her eyes to see the terrifying scene in front of her unchanged. Her hand rested softly on Dean's shoulder.

"Ten minutes in and no reaction to the Ativan." A nurse reported. She sounded soprofessional.

"Push through the Diastat, let's up the Ativan. Keep the compressions up. We'll give him a couple more minutes, but then we'll have to bag him." The doctor was staring at the heart monitor. It was still beeping, but slowly.

A nurse to the side continued CPR as another inserted a needle into the IV line. Then another. A third nurse watched the clock intently, keeping track of their deadline.

And then it came: A deep, shuddering breath. A cough.

"OK, he's breathing again." The doctor put a stethoscope to Sam's chest, checking something with a frown on his face. "He might have aspirated some mucus. Ginny, suck his throat out, he'll choke on this crap. His breath sounds are irregular on the right side. We'll have to take him for an X-ray later, check his lungs."

The doctor looked at Sam's face, checking his pupils and finally took his pulse.

"He's only partially responsive. Push another 5 ml's of Ativan."

Dean was shaking slightly. Annie couldn't blame him, she would be doing more than shaking if anything like this happened to her brother. As it was, she was just glad he was asleep next door. It would destroy him to see Sam this way.

"Fifteen minutes. Are we out of the woods yet?" The younger doctor glanced up at the nurse's question and looked at his colleague, shaking his head.

"He's not fully responsive, but he is breaking out of the seizure." The younger doctor ran a hand through his hair.

"Pulse is coming down, Heart rate is returning to normal. Doctor" A nurse was reporting the monitor changes. She was getting the doctor's attention because Sam's eyes were fluttering open and he was trying to say something. His wide eyes took in all the people surrounding him.

"Dean?" He seemed suddenly scared, looking from nurse to nurse. "Where's my brother? Dean!"

Dean jumped up and pushed his way through the nurses to stand at the bedside. He grabbed Sam's hand and met his eyes.

"Hey little brother - scared me for a minute there." He studied his brother's face. "How you feeling?"

"Wha' happened?" Sam ignored Dean's question and asked his own, looking confused at the entourage that had converged on his room.

"You had a seizure Sam. I need to ask you a couple questions, see if you can answer them." Dean glared at the doctor for interrupting and tightened his hold on Sam's hand. The doctor swallowed. "Do you remember anything about the seizure?"

Sam shook his head, still looking confused. Panicked slightly, his eyes found Dean again.

"Can you tell me your full name? Birth date?" Dean stared incredulously at the doctor and would have said something about the man's idiocy, but Sam stopped him with a hand squeeze.

"Yeah, Sam ... Richards. And my birth date" He paused, and then his face brightened as he found the answer. "May 2, 1983."

The doctor checked the information against the chart, but Dean's squeeze told Sam he had the answers right. He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

" 'M tired." The doctor nodded his head, though Sam's eyes stayed shut. The man met Dean's eyes.

"We have to ask a couple questions if we can, to make sure that a person coming out of a seizure doesn't have some temporary loss of functioning. We're going to need to take him for a couple tests. I'm a little concerned that he might have aspirated." He frowned at Sam.

"What does that mean? Why does it matter if he aspirated? And what's the deal with the seizure? Why did it last so long? Why did he stop breathing? Is that going to happen again?" Dean paused to take a breath. "Is he going to have any other problems because of this?"

"When a person seizes, sometimes muscles stop working temporarily. And sometimes their brain forgets to tell the body to breath. When that happens a person can choke on their own mucus because it will get caught in their throat. If he aspirated, that means the mucus got sucked down into his lungs." The doctor met Dean's eyes.

"I'm not sure if he aspirated or got choked on the mucus that was in his throat. I just don't want to take any chances. In his weakened condition he could catch pneumonia." The doctor glanced again at Sam and looked at the monitors. By this time, the rest of the room had cleared except for Annie.

"As for the seizure itself, sometimes once the brain gets started in a seizure, it isn't able to stop. It's called status epilepticus and it can be life threatening" He paused, taking in Dean's look of panic. "We were able to stop it before it caused any major problems for your brother. As for whether this will happen again? I don't know. It's a possibility because of the damage that hit to his head caused."

"Now, he's in the period after a seizure known as the 'post-ictal' state. The body is recovering from the trauma of having a seizure. After that one, he might be sleeping for quite a while. It's normal." He paused and seemed to study Dean. "We're going to have to take him for the X-ray and I want to have another CT scan run for comparison. Since he's asleep we'll try and push him ahead of everyone else and get them done quickly. You are going to need to remain here."

Dean shook his head but before he could say anything, the doctor spoke.

"You can't do anything for him and he's out. He won't know you aren't there. And by the looks of things, you could use a few minutes to grab a coffee or at least take a breather." In atypical Dean fashion, he slumped his shoulders and nodded.

As the doctor left the room, Annie came over to stand beside Dean.

"You okay, Dean?" She pulled her hand back from him, afraid to actually touch him at this point. He looked like he could break.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm fine. Just worried about Sammy." He squared his shoulders and looked at her, daring her to say different.

"Why don't you come next door after you grab a coffee. You can stay in there with Bobby and I until they bring him back." _And__ you won't have to be alone._ She added silently. He looked at her considering. "In fact, could I give you a dollar and maybe you could grab me a coffee too."

She actually was exhausted and she couldn't take time to rest now. Andy had left to join the morning church services and she didn't want to take a chance on Bobby awakening without her aware of it.

He nodded.

"Don't worry about the coffee, I'll get it. You look about ready to drop." He considered her. "You rested at all?"

"Have you?" She countered.

"Yeah, fine, I get your point. No lectures from the hypocrite." He grinned slightly and looked almost like the self-assured man she knew.

"Meet you back in your room in a few." With that he walked out the door, holding it open for her to pass through. They went separate directions and she watched him out of the corner of her eye. She admired the man. She shook her head and went towards her room, smiling as she took in the sight of her brother dwarfed in the middle of white sheets and pillows.

Dean walked back down the hallway from the family lounge, holding two Styrofoam cups full of hot coffee. He didn't know if Annie needed anything in hers so he had grabbed a little of everything and heaped it in a nice neat little pile on top of her lid. He took a cautious sip of his.

Ah, caffeine.

It was like a balm to his bruised soul right now. Seeing Sam like thatman. He gave himself a mental shake, trying to wipe his brothers gray face and blue lips from his mind's eye.

He hadn't wanted to leave Sam alone for those tests, asleep or not he had wanted to stay with his brother. But the doctor was right – he couldn't do anything to help and he needed to take a breather.

He was nearing their rooms. He glanced in Sam's room and saw it was empty. Good, the tests were still going; Sam'd be back soon enough now.

He walked a few feet further to stand outside Bobby's door and smiled as he walked hesitantly into the room.

"Oh, good. Coffee." Annie was reaching for the coffee before he could cross the room, grinning in anticipation.

"Wasn't sure what you took in it, so there's a little bit of everything."

Dean considered the woman before him. She had dealt with a lot over the last several weeks. Her parents had died, horribly, in a fire. Then a demon attacked her brother. As if that weren't enough, then the little guy had been kidnapped. She had held up pretty good, considering. In fact, she surprised him by how well she seemed to be holding up. Her eyes skittered from him to her brother and around the room as she sipped her black coffee.

Every instinct told him to say something stupid and beat it to the door.

But he could see the big sister in her trying to slap on a brave face; trying to hide emotions she couldn't afford the luxury of feeling. It felt all too familiar. So instead of running, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"Sorry." Annie pulled away, eyes down.

"For what?" He watched her, waiting for an answer.

"Obviously I'm just barely holding on. You can tell, can't you?" Annie raised her eyes to hesitantly take in what he hoped was an understanding expression "Thanks for being so nice."

"Yeah, well, don't let it get around." He could ignore her almost-breakdown. They could talk around it. No problem. But, really . . . he stopped himself from just walking away. No one ever tried to help him when things were rough, except maybe Sam. But little brothers didn't count. "Thanks for being there when Sam waswell, you know."

He met her eyes and nodded quickly. Then he walked to the door, opened it and turned to leave.

"No problem." Her soft words followed him into the hallway. He grinned softly to himself. She was sweet. He couldn't help feeling a bit protective of her. She looked to him like she could use someone to look out for her.

He opened the door to Sam's room, relieved when he saw the room was still empty. He'd only taken 20 minutes, so hopefully that meant Sam would be back anytime now.

He took up position in the room's one chair, tucked into the corner of the room. Eyes vigilant, he silently sipped the hot coffee.

* * *

_J__almari watched his older charge, __eyes flash__ing__ dangerously_

_He looked back toward the bed and frowned. The smallest child looked asleep, but something was wrong. __He knew another man had entered the room before his other charge returned. T__hat man had been furtive, sneaking into the room and doing something to the line that ran to the child's arm. He had only left __just before__ the __sister__ showed._

_Looking back to the sister, he saw she was finished with her prayers. He bent again to whisper an instinctive warning into her subconscious. _

_"Check your brother__. Check him carefully."  
_

* * *

_  
At the same time in the room next door, Mika'el was all but shouting to get Dean to listen to the angel's still voice in his subconscious. _

_They did not have the luxury of time. His brother __was in trouble and the angel had to get the message to __the elder.__Mika'el reached for the tiny part of this human's subconscious that was open and shouted. _

_"You must find __your brother__ NOW!" _

* * *

_Okay ... if you're reading I'd love to know what you think. Give a writer some lovin' grin _


	3. Ch 2 Lost and Found

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 2 "Lost and Found"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG-13 now but overall R: Language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** Dean looks for his brother while Annie tries to find answers about Bobby's sudden health crisis.

_**Chapter 2 - "Lost and Found"**_

Sam tried to open his eyes and focus, but they were heavy, hard to open. His instincts sluggishly insisted something else was wrong, though, so he worked on that sole task until he was blinking blearily into the dim lighting.

There was someone there but he couldn't tell what they were doing, what they were saying.

Everything was so hard to understand. Sam tried to focus, but the images blurred and the voice sounded muffled. Man, he was tired.

Understanding hit him, then.

This was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not with this person.

His limbs were heavy and wouldn't listen to his command to move, to fight. An unseen hand wrapped one limb after another in smooth, unyielding leather cuffs; pulled them to the side of the hospital bed.

"Whayoudoin'?" One word, slurred. It at least caused the person to stop and consider him. He blinked at them.

"Thought you would still be asleep there Sammy, boy." It was a familiar voice. Sam blinked. Why did he know that voice? He hated being this confused. "You're going on a little trip."

"Wha'? No. Dea'!" His voice sounded weak, making him curse silently. This was all wrong. And he couldn't do anything about it. Oh, God. This really sucked.

At least he could think. Kind of.

"Help!" He tried using his voice, deciding one word was his best bet. He was pleased to hear it sound a little louder. Unfortunately, the man studying him decided it was too loud.

A slap to his right cheek threw his head to the side, causing sharp pain to flare. He blinked, trying to stop the world from swimming around him.

"Shut up!" Man, that guy's breath stunk. Sam was confused again. What was this man doing? Why did everything feel so wrong? So dangerous? His face hurt. He blinked at the man again. His eyes felt so heavy.

He needed to fight. But his arms and legs were attached securely to the bed. He wasn't sure he could move them anyway. His whole body felt disconnected. He only knew one thing to do.

"Dede!" Eh, close enough. He glared at the man, trying not to allow his vision to fade. He had to stay conscious. He had to fight. "Dea..."

He wasn't able to finish screaming his brother's name. Instead, a punch to his right cheek sent muted, heavy pain through his cheek again. He grunted, barely retaining consciousness. Images faded into one another as he struggled to stay aware of what was going on.

"I said shut up!" The man's face was nose to nose with his and he felt his eyes widen in recognition. He shook his head, whimpering deep in his throat. Oh man, this was bad. This was really bad.

The man grinned and disappeared from his line of sight. In the next instant, the guy shoved something into his mouth. He gagged. The fabric tickled the back of his throat and made it hard to breath. Coughing, he stared desperately at the person doing this to him. He couldn't breathe in enough air through his nose.

His desperate eyes didn't seem to faze the man, who turned away from him. He struggled to pull air past the fabric blocking his throat, but it was in vain. _Dean!_

The man glanced dismissively down at his captive. He paused, and reached down to pull a bit of the bunched washcloth from the kid's mouth. Couldn't have him suffocating, after all.

The grin on his face was stiff, angry. His blue eyes glanced around furtively before pushing the unconscious man across the hallway. Nervous fingers plucked a blanket from the linen cart and covered Sam, from his face down to his feet.

To anyone who wasn't looking closely, the kid would look like he was resting.

Drumming his fingers against the rail, he pulled the bed along to the staff elevators.

The tall man pushed the bed toward an open elevator, and pounding footsteps behind him spurred him on. He cursed softly when he realized he could be discovered_. It was too early._

"Hey!" The man running towards them was close - too close. He couldn't risk detection yet.

He made a quick decision.

He stepped to the side and pushed the bed as hard as he could in the opposite direction, out of the elevator. He pulled back, hidden, into the corner of the elevator, pressing the button to close the doors. Then he pushed the basement button.

There would be another time to collect this one. At least he had taken care of the child.

His eyes darkened in fury at the insolence of the small child. The boy would not have another chance to play innocent hero. No, he should be starting to get very sick right about now. And if the drugs he had injected did their job, the boy would be in for a painful death.

His face relaxed into a real grin, and the thought of revenge lightened his step as he walked out of the elevator into the basement parking garage.

Oh, yes. Revenge would be his.

Dean saw the bed sticking out of the elevator and knew instinctively that it was carrying his brother. He yelled when he was about twenty feet away and tried to push his body even faster.

Then the bed changed direction and flew past him and behind him, down the hallway. He blinked, skidding to a stop and changing directions to chase the bed.

That couldn't be a good thing. The length looked about right, and the brown hair sticking out from under the blanket at the top looked familiar too. He pushed his sore body to go faster.

Runaway beds, now that was new, he thought.

He was able to grasp the head rail of the bed at last, seconds before it would have collided with the wall.

He stopped, panting for a second, before whipping aside the blanket to expose his brother's pale face.

"Sammy, oh man." He was dismayed to find him unconscious. He watched his breathing - it was slow and steady, at least. He ripped the bunched up washcloth out of his brother's mouth and looked him over.

His anger increased when he noticed the bruise forming on his brother's right cheek. He looked closely and noticed the awkward angle of his brother's limbs.

He cursed when he realized restraints had pulled his brother's limbs as tight as possible against the side of bed. Someone else joined him as he fumbled with the buckles, releasing each limb and rubbing where the cuff had chafed his brother's skin.

"You found him. Thank God!" The radiology technician wasn't sure what terrified him more, the angry brother in front of him or the possibility of losing his job. Losing patients was a sure way to be fired, while angry relatives were usually just an annoyance. But this guy? He looked like he would gladly kill him if anything actually happened to his brother. "What happened? Why did he have restraints on? Did you see the guy who brought him down here?"

Dean's eyes flashed a brilliant almost green as he faced the man. The technician swallowed hard.

"Does it look like I know what happened? My brother was taken out from under your nose, so why don't you tell me?" Dean was furious. And he felt guilty. He knew he should have stayed with his brother.

"Dean?" He glanced down to see Sam's eyes watching him. "Wha' happened?"

"Dean?" When he didn't answer immediately, Sam's voice was more insistent. " 'M sorry. There 'as a guy."

"I know, kiddo. It's okay. We're going to get you back up to your room. We'll go over it later, okay?" Dean really didn't want to deal with an emotionally charged Sammy in the basement of the hospital with an inept technician as his only witness.

"Dean? 'M glad you're here." With that, his green eyes disappeared beneath a curtain of lashes. His face relaxed in sleep as exhaustion once again overtook him. Dean watched his brother carefully. Then he turned his gaze on the technician, who gulped and stepped back.

"Help me get him back up to his room. Then we're going to talk with the doctor." He narrowed his eyes at the trembling man. "And you can explain to them how you let my brother get kidnapped by some psycho right out from under your nose."

Realizing the man had at least told him the "doctor" who had collected his brother was heading down the hallway towards the elevator, he sighed, and resisted the urge to throttle the man for his incompetence.

What kind of idiot left a barely conscious man alone in the first place? The same idiot who didn't ask for ID or anything before handing his brother over to the nice resident psycho, Dean corrected mentally. The stupid kid had stared at him wide-eyed and told him it was only his second day. What? Like that was supposed to make it better?

He rubbed his head tiredly. He was about limp with relief at finding his brother in time. Another couple of minutes and . . . he didn't want to think about where his captor had been trying to take his brother.

He scratched the back of his neck with one hand as he helped guide the bed with his other. It was weird, how he'd decided Sam needed him. It was as if a voice screamed in his head to find his brother, NOW! Dean smirked to himself: when it came to his brother, he always listened to the crazy voices in his head.

* * *

Annie watched Bobby closely. She had been feeling the most urgent need to watch over him after praying earlier. Something was wrong.

He had been sleeping when she went next door during Sam's seizure. And while he was still sleeping, it seemed wrong, somehow. She couldn't put her finger on it. She just felt a niggling sensation deep within her mind. Like something was wrong.

She reached out to hold his hand and felt his pulse with the tip of her index finger. She frowned. It was sluggish. That didn't make any sense. His breathing paused, hitched, before he took a shuddering deep breath. She watched the rise and fall of his chest.

It almost looked like he was having a sleep apnea episode. He'd had it as a baby. But he hadn't had any problems for a long time.

Why would it suddenly pop up again?

When his breathing stopped again, she reached for the nurses call button. Hopefully it was nothing, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of dread building in her belly.

She hit the big orange button just as her brother groaned and rolled onto his side in a fetal position.

"Bobby?" She reached out to grab him and pull him closer. She felt the knotted muscles of his stomach as she splayed her hand over his belly. A cramp? She bit her lip, starting to worry now as she waited for the nurse.

As she was holding him, she felt his body trembling. She pulled him closer, molding his small frame to hers as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"Bobby? Sweetie?" She patted his face, trying to get any kind of reaction from her brother. He whimpered. "Oh, honey"

She looked up as a nurse came in.

"Is something wrong, Ms. Carver?" She moved closer, noting Annie's agitation and her patients' pale color. "What is it?"

"I was just wajust watching him sleep when I noticed he stopped breathing a couple times. He used to have sleep apnea and I think I think that's what that was." She cleared her head trying to talk more clearly. "His pulse is slow and he won't wake up. And he just cramped up all of a sudden and groaned."

She couldn't really add that something felt wrong. But it really did. The dread in the pit of her stomach had increased and she felt true panic.

"Okay, lay him down. Let's see if we can figure this out." The nurse frowned as she looked the boy over. His skin was pale but grayish around his mouth. She picked his wrist up, checking with her for his pulse. She glanced at his nail beds as she did so. They were bluish tinted too. She was willing to bet his oxygen was low.

She pushed a button on the wall and an alarm sounded. A red blinking light cast an ominous glow as it flashed in the room. Annie watched it all, with more tears making cautious trails down her face.

She stayed beside her brother, holding his other hand as the nurse opened first one eye and then the other, checking his pupil reactions. Another nurse rushed through the door, followed by a white-coated woman. They flanked the bed.

"His sister was watching him when he started having trouble breathing. Said he seemed to cramp and his pulse was low. He used to have sleep apnea." She paused to stare down the woman with the clipboard. "His nail beds are blue. Around his mouth, too. His breathing is irregular. Heart's racing."

She paused to look over at Annie.

"We were just watching him for a couple cracked ribs, his arm and dehydration, right?" At Annie's nod the nurse's mouth thinned. She met the other woman's eyes. They switched positions.

"I'm Dr. James. Ms. Carver, think carefully: how long ago did you first notice him having trouble breathing?" The doctor paused, meeting Annie's eyes.

"Maybe about ten minutes ago. At first he was just catching his breath, like he used to with his sleep apnea. But thenI don't knowsomething didn't seem right so I started watching him closer." Annie was simultaneously praying and speaking at the same time. And shaking. She was shaking all over. _Oh, Lord, help him, please. Help them figure out what's wrong. Lord, please. Help my brother._

"He was asleep before that, though, so I don't know if it didn't start before." Annie drew in a shuddering breath. "I went next door when my friend had his seizure, but Bobby was asleep when I left. And a nurse had checked him out about a half hour before that."

She watched numbly as the nurses and doctor worked on her brother, barely able to focus on the terrifying scene before her. He looked so little, so still.

"Excuse me, sweetie." She waited for Annie to move over, and then gently applied the mask over Bobby's face.

If Annie hadn't been sure that something was wrong, she would have been now. There was no way Bobby would ever allow anything to stay on his face like that if he were well.

The nurse flipped a switch on the wall and it made a small hissing sound as oxygen started moving through the cord and mask. The nurse patted Annie's hand.

"We'll figure this out, honey, it'll be okay." She met Annie's eyes sympathetically and then moved over to finish setting the monitor up.

Annie moved down a little further to give the nurses a chance to move around the bed as they attached her brother to all sorts of electrodes and machines. A steady beeping started shortly after that. As Annie stepped towards the foot of the bed, she stepped on something. Hearing it crunch, she bent down to examine it further.

It was a syringe. She bent down further and picked the pieces of it up.

That was weird; usually syringes went in the little collection bin on the wall. She didn't know, but figured they might need to at least log it somewhere, so she stopped the other nurse as she was hooking her brother up to yet another machine.

"Here. I just stepped on this. It was there towards the foot of the bed." The nurse looked at her, confused. "I figured someone dropped it, maybe? Just thought you guys might need to log it or something? I didn't know for sure, sorry."

The woman looked down at the syringe in Annie's hand and frowned.

"Just a sec." She grabbed a pair of gloves from a box attached to the wall. Great, at least _she_ thought to get gloves. Annie bit her lip: She didn't even stop to consider what might have been on the syringe when she picked it up.

"Dr. James?" She met the Dr's eyes from across the room. The Dr. started across the room, but the nurse left the bedside to meet the Dr. across the room. They spoke quietly for a minute. Annie was worried when she saw the Dr.'s expression darken. She flinched as the nurse said something to her and glanced toward Annie, then down to the floor.

Slowly, the professional made her way across the room to Annie.

"Ms. Carver? How long were you with your friend next door?" The way the doctor was waiting for an answer seemed to put a lot of importance on her answer.

"I'm not sure." She thought back, trying to remember. "Maybe 10 minutes?"

She didn't like how the doctor's face paled.

"What? What's going on?" Annie demanded, suddenly scared.

"We're going to have to run some labs. See if" The doctor swallowed. "That syringe was a pre-drawn diastat syringe. It shouldn't have been in here at all. The plunger was all the way down before it was broken."Annie stared at the doctor, trying to grasp the woman's words.

"Diastat? Did someone make a mistake?" She could barely get the strangled words out.

"Doctor?" Claire was holding another syringe up. "I thought I'd checkthere was another syringe under the bed a little further back. The plunger is all the way depressed."

Annie's horrified eyes darted from nurse to doctor.

"What does that mean? How much of that stuff is in my brother and how did it get there?" She was trying really hard to stay calm. But it was difficult. She blinked back tears furiously. "Is he going to be okay?"

"These were prepared syringes" She took the other syringe from Claire, turning it over to read the label. "They were both 10 milliliters and if we're right and they were both injected directly into his bloodstream" She met Annie's eyes.

"Even in the proper dose, Diastat can depress breathing. With your brother's history and the size of this dose, he's having the reaction we'd expect from an overdose. His heart is beating too hard under the pressure from the drug, and his breathing is depressed. He's not getting enough oxygen."

"What can you do?" Annie whispered the words, afraid of the answer.

"First we really need to verify that it was given to him. I'll put a stat on some blood work to verify that it's in his bloodstream." The doctor paused. "Fortunately there is antidote we can give to counter the effects. But we still have to monitor his heart rate and oxygen level. If we have to, we can give him something to stabilise his heart rate."

"With your permission we'll start that blood work and have this ready to go the second we get word from the lab." She patted Annie's arm. "We'll work with security here in the hospital to try and figure out how this happened."

She went on to explain that the drug would have to be given every few hours until the Diastat was out of Bobby's system.

Annie blinked her eyes. This was all just too much. How could . . .? She couldn't help the lone tear that escaped. She wiped it away angrily.

The events of the last couple days, the last few weeks really, just caught up with her. She had to turn away from the doctor to try and regain her composure. _Oh Lord, why? Please help him. Why would anyone do this?_

"Annie?" The gentle voice behind her filled her with relief. Andy! She wiped away the few tears that had run down her face and then turned to face her friend. Her mouth opened to explain what was happening, but she couldn't speak.

"What's wrong? Annie? Doctor?" He turned to the doctor when Annie couldn't seem to find the words. The doctor recited the events to the pastor and with a last glance towards Annie, left to write down her orders. The nurses were already busy drawing blood for the tests they needed to run. Annie watched it all with a detached resolve.

Andy moved to stand beside her and watched the young woman. She was strong, but he could see her struggling. No wonder. Anyone would. _Lord, please give her strength and help the doctors with little Bobby. Be with him and keep him safe. Help Annie feel your love, Lord._

"Annie, are you okay?" It sounded cliché, but what else was he supposed to say?

"Not really." She spoke dully, her face carefully blank.

"Why don't we pray?" He was taken aback by her quick shake of the head.

"Andy, I know I need to pray. But I  I just can't." Her voice broke and she turned her back to the holy man. "He's already been through so much, how could anyone do this to him? How could God let this happen to him?"

She turned angry eyes back to her friend. His compassionate gaze broke through her momentary rage and she crumpled. She wasn't all that great at being mad. Andy caught her as she went to her knees, sobbing.

"I know, Annie. It's not fair. For you or for Bobby." He rubbed her back, awkwardly holding her close as she sobbed into his shirt. "But God is still here. What man means for evil, God turns to good."

He knew she listened, and he knew he had to reach her. He felt it to his bones. Her faith was about to be tested much, much further than ever before. He had a way of recognising such things.

"I just don't understand why. How does this have to fall into His plan? Why did some psycho have to try and hurt my brother?" She sounded tired, defeated.

"I've never known you to give up. Annie. You have to rise to this challenge, this test. Faith is all about believing when nothing makes any sense. I thought you were faithful, Annie."

His disappointed voice wounded her. She blinked back the quick tears and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She wanted to get angry. It would be easier, by far.

Deep down she knew Andy was right. Being a Christian wasn't just about belief with her, it never had been. She was the kind of person to do something all the way or not at all. She had jumped headfirst in believing. That came easy. Sticking to her faith through the good times and bad was never her problem, either.

No, her biggest weakness lay in the bed across the room. When something happened to her brother, she couldn't stop and think about her faith, she just felt. No matter if what she felt went against everything she believed.

She just felt.

She took a deep breath. It was time to start listening to the truth, not her emotions. The truth She had decided a long time ago to turn her heart over to God. Through the years, her faith had developed, matured. No matter what happened, she knew God would be there through it. _Just help me protect my little brother, Lord. That's all I ask._

"Okay, Andy. Let's pray." When she turned to face him, the pastor blinked. He'd sat quiet for the last several minutes as she stared into space. Whatever she had been thinking about, her face now looked composed, determined andaccepting.

As Bobby's monitors beeped steadily, softly, behind them, their heads bowed down and their prayers started a soft melody.

* * *

Okay - step aboard - the ride is about to take off! I'd love to know what you think. And remember, lots of newer elements within this fic (as compared to the prequel). Give a writer some lovin' and let me know if you liked or hated it! 


	4. Ch 3 In Between

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 3 - "In Between"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG-13 now but overall R: Language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** Bobby speaks with a friend while Dean tries to deal with Sammy.

_**Ch. 3 - "In Between" **_

Bobby was dreaming. But he wasn't. He was confused. He wasn't supposed to hurt when he dreamed. He didn't think he had before. And his tummy really hurt right now.

He gritted his teeth against the pain and asked God for help. Please. Because it hurt really bad. Soon, the pain lessoned and Bobby looked around.

Funny. Not in a haha funny way though. Everything was white. It almost hurt his eyes. Usually he had lots of neat things to look at when he dreamed.

What was this place?

His eyes opened wide as a figure in the distance moved closer and closer. It was an angel. He saw the neat wings and the way he almost seemed to glow now.

He had dreamed of angels lots of times before. But something was different this time. Special.

The figure closed the distance quickly and Bobby knew who it was: His special friend, Jalmari. He smiled up in the angel's direction. Even in his dreams it was hard to look people in the eyes. And, an angel still counted.

"Little one." The angel grinned gently at him and then bent and dropped to sit beside him. His wings fluttered behind them both.

"This dream?" It didn't feel like one, but he wanted to make sure. And he knew the angel would tell him.

"No, little one. This is not a dream." He paused and before Bobby could ask his next question he chuckled. It sounded nice. "Before you ask, this is not real either."

"What is this?" Bobby looked around again, not understanding.

"This is a special place for you to visit, an in between place."

"What in between place?" That sounded important. Kind of.

"Little one, a person tried to hurt you. While your body heals, you cannot dream, so you are here. Soon you will dream again." The angel smiled again.

"Bad guy hurt Bobby?" He thought the bad guys should just stop it for a while.

"Yes, little one."

"Why?" Why did the bad things and bad guys want to hurt him? Why couldn't they leave him alone?

As if he listened to Bobby's thoughts, Jalmari spoke gently.

"You are a special child, Bobby. The Lord expects much from you. You are a part of His plan. And the evil in your world knows it. They wish to stop you." He looked at Bobby with a small grin. "You are chosen, child."

"Bobby? Why?" That really was funny. He smiled. He was just a boy.

"You are truly innocent, little one. And you have great faith. Both are important. But you have a gift. You are able to use your special words. Few men speak them. But you breath them. You live them." The angel stopped speaking and leaned forward to meet Bobby's eyes. He smiled when Bobby met the gaze.

"They are a part of you. The words unlock God's protection. And that scares the evil in your world." The angelic being paused. "Anyone can pray and God will listen. The words are a special link. Because you also are innocent and truly faithful, the words unlock powerful protection. They are very old words. And very special."

Bobby looked at the angel and his mouth hung open. He just liked the special words. And he liked using them, talking to God with them. He just really liked them. He thought he kind of knew what the angel told him, already. Deep down, the words were always a part of him.

He liked that things made so much more sense in this in between place. In the real world it was hard to understand everything. There was always too much that he had to look at, feel, smell: It was really hard. But here, it wasn't. He really liked it here.

"No, little one, you may not stay here." The angel understood what he was thinking again. Bobby grinned. "Already, it is time for you to start dreaming."

Jalmari gripped his shoulder and Bobby looked up at him.

"Know that God is always with you, child. Just as your angels always watch over you. You are always protected." His eyes flashed. "No matter what happens, remember that you are always close to God. Close to Heaven itself, little one."

Bobby nodded.

"Bad guys or bad thingsGod always there? And angels too, and Jalmari?" Bobby watched him closely.

"No matter where you are, or if there is evil close to you, yeslittle one. I will be there, and your angels and God will be close by to protect you." The big angel grinned again. "Now sleep. And dream."

And Bobby did.

* * *

Jalmari stood back behind the veil. The child was very special indeed. All of heaven was watching to see the role he would play in the coming battle. 

Both he and his sister would be tested. He was just beginning to learn their purpose, together, in this battle.

The hunters and the pastor were to save them both. Together, they all would need to stop this battle from leading to the end.

The innocent and his protector.

The hunters.

The holy man.

They all had a part to play: Roles of honour and sacrifice.

The stage was set, the parts all assigned. And the audience in heaven and hell watched, waiting for the curtain to open.

Dean was still furious.

His brother had been grabbed right out of the hospital, and he should have been there. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes, still watching his brother.

The technician had very nervously helped him get his brother's bed back to his room. Dean had about made the man wet his pants when he demanded a nurse contact the doctor and have them come to his room, now.

Under normal circumstances, this doctor would have interested him for other reasons, but he didn't have the energy or desire to flirt with anything right now, so the gorgeous doctor wasn't saved from his anger as he described what had happened to his brother.

Apparently, some psycho was making a habit out of trying to hurt people in this hospital. The doctor had continued on a rant of her own after Dean had finished. She was furious that some whacko had chosen to play doctor at her hospital. It seemed another patient, a kid, had been hurt too. After her own rant, she turned on the technician.

Dean almost felt sorry for the man now.

The doctor didn't mince words with the shaking idiot. By the time she was done, the man actually had tears in his eyes. Oh, and he was out of a job: As soon as she could notify human resources, anyway.

It was good enough for Dean. He was more concerned about whoever had actually tried to take his brother.

The doctor moved on to the bed, studying Sam's appearance. She had collected his chart earlier and studied it now as well.

"Okay, so I need to check and see if they actually even got the CT done or not. I'm going to go double check something else and I'll be right back." She turned to leave and then stopped, looking over her shoulder at Dean. "We don't make a habit of losing patients or having psychos running the halls. I'm waiting to hear back from hospital security, and I'll decide what to do from there."

Dean studied her back as she exited the room. He didn't put a lot of faith in the hospital security. But he was curious about what the doctor was checking on.

He moved over to stand by his brother. Man, he looked pale. But at least he was just sleeping. Dean smoothed the blanket over his chest, moving his arms to cover him more completely. The new bruise on his cheek stood out in stark contrast on his pale skin, and seeing it again made Dean want to hit something desperately.

Where was that technician again?

He shook his head. None of this made any sense. Why would someone want to get Sam? They had taken care of the bad guy

His train of thought stopped, shifted. No one had checked in with Larkin after they came to the hospital. Dean had been a little more concerned about getting his brother to a hospital. They were all more concerned about getting to the hospital.

Could Larkin have been possessed again? Or could one of the guys they had left tied up gotten loose to try and get some revenge? They had pretty much forgotten about the guys left there, assuming Larkin could handle things until they could make it back.

His eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure what was going on here. But when he figured it out, there would be hell to pay. No one messed with Sammy. Especially when he couldn't even defend himself.

Lost in thoughts of revenge, Dean didn't notice the doctor re-entering the room at first. But he felt the difference within the room quickly and looked over to see her walking closer to the bed.

"Well, I checked out a few things, actually. And I've got some good news." She took a deep breath. "His x-rays were clear so no problems from aspirating. That's good. And the CT scan was done, and it remained unchanged. In fact, it looked like the swelling might have gone down slightly."

She looked again at the chart she was holding, and Dean got the distinct feeling there was a "but" coming up.

"I'm not sure what this person tried to do to him, but I'm assuming from that bruise on his cheekwell, he was hit pretty forcefully. I don't think it could have caused further damage, but we'll have to watch him to make sure."

Dean kept silent. He hadn't thought he could feel any more guilty. But hey, why not? Now Sam could still get worse because he had let some deranged person get hold of him and the prick had hit him. He contained his anger as he looked back at the doctor. There was something else.

"I wanted to check something else out before I said anything. Do you know the Carver's in the room next door?" Dean nodded. "Somehow the little boy was injected with medication that had been pulled for your brother."

"Is he okay?" Dean hadn't realized anything was going on next door. He'd been too wrapped up in taking care of Sam. Bobby must have been the little boy she was talking about earlier.

"We're waiting for some tests for him. But the medicine that was pulled for SamI checked the numbers on the syringes. The ones used next door were originally pulled for your brother, but according to his chart we didn't use them. We're waiting for confirmation, but we're pretty sure that those two syringes were injected into Bobby Carver's IV line."

Dean's eyes narrowed.

"You think the same person might be behind that and trying to take my brother?"

"It's possible. I'm trying to find the nurse who signed out the medication in the first place." She looked worried for a second. "She's supposed to be on her shift until 6 tonight. But I can't find her anywhere."

Dean took this information in.

"What about Bobby? Is he okay?" At her guarded look, he pushed a little harder. "We're family friends and I didn't know something else had happened to him."

"He's stable. But we just don't know how much damage has already been done." The doctor sounded grave, but then her face brightened. "We'll be able to counter the medication once we know for sure that he was injected. Then, it will just be up to his body to fight the rest of the way."

Dean looked up just as a shadow crossed the door. Andy. The taller man entered the room with a nod to the doctor as she left the room.

"How's your brother doing?" He walked over to look down on Sam, a frown on his face.

"We've got to wait to make sure he's not any worse."

"Annie told me he had a seizure earlier?"

"Yeah."

"You have some other excitement?" Andy stared at him.

Dean told him what had just happened, and included the details the doctor had just shared with him. He looked down at his brother.

"How's Annie doing with everything?"

"Pretty good, I think. But that's Annie." Andy ran a hand through his hair, and pulled at his collar. Dean kind of knew what the guy meant. Sometimes a person just did what they had to do. Annie seemed like that kind of person.

He glanced over at Sam and was surprised to see his eyes open: Blinking. Green eyes met hazel in an unspoken moment of relief and Sam grinned.

"Hey."

"Hey little brother. You ok?" Dean studied his brother's face.

"My head is killing me." He sounded young and a little confused. "Dean?"

He met Sam's eyes. "Yeah?"

"Tell me some psycho did not just try to take me out of here" He grinned at Dean in a hopeful kind of way.

"Sorry, you always attract the freaks, kiddo." Dean flinched at the look of pain that crossed his brother's face. He jerked his legs and looked at his arms, then wiped his bruised cheek. "It's okay, Sam, he didn't get too far."

"Did you get him?" A hopeful look.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean looked away, suddenly sorry he didn't get to the prick.

"No, s'okay. Just - I couldn't do anything. I could just watch him. Couldn't fight. Couldn't move." Again he moved his arms and legs, like he wanted to reassure himself that he could, in fact, move them now. Suddenly his eyes flew open and he grabbed Dean's hand.

"Dean! It was Larkin!" His eyebrow raised at Dean's non-reaction. "You knew?"

"Not for sure. But he didn't just get to you, Sam, he tried to get Bobby too." Dean ran a shaking hand through his hair. Feeling helpless was not his forte. "Was he possessed?"

"I don't think sohis eyes were clear. Meanbut clear." Sam shook like a child at the memory. "He scared me."

Dean glanced up quickly at the scared, childlike voice of his brother. He didn't even think before grasping his hand and squeezing. Looked like emotional Sammy was back. He groaned inwardly. He was still watching his brother as tears started leaking from his eyes. Oh man, tears too?

"It's okay Sam. There's no reason to still be scared. He's not here right now." Sam looked at him like the child he once was, eyes big with trust.

"Promise?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I promise." He winced, remembering his brother's reaction the last time he used that nickname. But Sam didn't seem to mind this time around. He was too busy crying.

"Dean?" He sounded like his brother again, his 23-year-old brother. He studied him.

"Yeah?"

"When'd the doctor say I'd stop crying like a baby and acting like an idiot over every little thing?" He laughed, uncomfortable. "It's getting a little old."

"Gotta wait for the swelling to go down, little man." Dean grinned as he used a nickname Sam liked a long time ago.

Sam's head came up, and with a grin he punched Dean in the arm. The grin fell from his face when he remembered something else Dean had said.

"What happened to Bobby?

* * *

Remember, reviews are love - and with this fic I especially would like to know what you're thinking! So give me some lovin', _please!_


	5. Ch 4 Inner Reflections

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 4 - "Inner reflections"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** R now: our bad guy is a little twisted nothing too graphic depicted Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** We finally hear from our bad guy directly, and it ain't pretty. Something surprising happens while the rest of the gang is occupied.  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to **Look Into His Eyes**. Now everyone is trying to deal with the aftermath of thier fight with a demon. But in the process of dealing, a new evil threatens them all.

_**Ch. 4 - "Inner Reflections" **_

The man remembered everything. He'd spent hours, days now, reliving the memories left in his head. He had studied the vestiges of thoughts, feelings, left over from nights before.

He relived the moments with detachment, passion, fury.

The more he examined them, the more he knew what he must do.

"_**And what do you think you're doing, pastor?" The words had an edge to them. "Don't you know that doesn't work on me?"**_

_**The pastor smiled as he kept talking. **_

Yes, the pastor had started it all. He remembered everything. When the group of misled fools sent the demon invading his body back to hell, they thought they were doing him a favor.

What they didn't know, what he didn't even know until later, was that they had stripped a vital part of him away at the same time.

He smiled an empty grin that echoed the direction his memories took him.

_**She couldn't muffle a broken sob as he forced her head back even further, opening up the column of her neck. His breath trailed the length of her neck before he spoke again.**_

"_**I might consider a trade, of sorts." His voice was soft, almost like a caress. Annie could not help the shudder the coursed through her body. "You come to serve me, willingly, and I will leave your brother to lead his simple, innocent existence."**_

The demon in his skin had been so powerful, so eager to pull pain, terror from them all; he could still taste the thrill of it all. He could remember the woman, envision her neck still stretched open for him. He could taste her fear, and  the innocence, radiating from her even now. It excited him. He wanted her back.

He had plans for her.

He could forgive her; even though she had helped the others destroy what was so important to him. He'd let her watch as he reclaimed what was his: What they had taken from him. He would taste the power again.

His memories shifted, remembering anew the powerful knowledge the demon had implanted in his mind before being purged.

His thoughts remembered that night.

_**He sneered at Sam and laughed.**_

"_**You think you can do anything with those words, Sammy boy?" He leered at Sam. "Why do you call on God? He's nothing to you. What do you and God think you can do to something like me?"**_

Sammy, Sam, Samuel. Whatever. The knowledge burned his vision as rage once again started to replace other, more pleasant thoughts. The young man had great powers, and the demon within him had desperately wanted them. The time wasn't right before; It had been Annie's turn. Now her turn had passed, and he knew she could be his, regardless of her _powers_. He would keep her to use for himself and use the boy, Sam, in exchange. He would be enough to entice the power he craved.

In the end, he would have his revenge on the others as well.

The child, on the other hand . . . he drew his eyes together in a frown. The child was special, dangerous. The demon had sensed it, and that knowledge stayed with him. He had tried to kill the child, but he failed.

He paused, unsure of the direction his plans for the child should take. He knew just possessing the child would help keep the sister in line. He licked his lips, knowing that could prove useful in itself.

He remembered how the boy had shifted the momentum nights ago. Bobby, he remembered his name was Bobby. As simple as he appeared, the boy was anything but.

_**. . . he stiffened, and then pulled away from Sam and sat forward. He glared at the demon.**_

"_**You ba' ting'." He flung the words at the demon, who looked surprised, then flung his head back and laughed with relish. The deep sounds echoed off the walls.**_

He knew the demon had been genuinely amused with the child. He had felt it deep within the thoughts left behind. He wondered if the demon realized he had underestimated the little brat.

"_**Well, look what we have here." Larkin picked up the small child by the collar of his shirt, shoving him to perch against his side. His arm in an iron grip around the boy's hips, he grinned savagely in the boy's face. "What are you going to do, little Bobby, fight the big bad meanie?"**_

Just moments later, the boy added his voice to that of the pastor, of Sam. The three of them began working together in a concerted effort to drive the demon back to hell.

He had plenty of time to remember it all over the last days: he remembered it all.

"_**Oremus. Deus, et Pater Fomini nostri jesu Chrisi, invoco nomen sanctum tuum, et clementiam tuam supplex**__****__**" In unison their voices combined. Strengthened. The words marched on. Like poetry, they created an even cadence and stilled the atmosphere of the entire room.**_

He blinked, and jerked with the force behind a different moment in time.

"_**You think your puny power can hold me, girl?" He sneered at her, in contrast to the sheen of sweat dotting his brow.**_

"_**Long enough for their words to work on you." Her words were painfully spoken, haltingly. But she met his eyes unflinchingly as the truth of her words hit him. Suddenly, the background noise hummed to the foreground. In unison, three voices were carrying the words of the ritual across the room. **_

_**They became as one, and their words moved through the air, snaking over and around and causing an almost visible rift in the atmosphere. **_

He would need to be prepared: Her power was great. The others were formidable as well.

Daniel Larkin turned around with an easy grin on his face. His ice blue eyes shimmered in anticipation, his lean form tall and standing at attention. He gazed out over his property.

He had never felt surer of his purpose. Or enjoyed it so immensely.

Everything made so much sense now.

Since he had remembered the thrill, and power, of being possessed, he craved it even more. And he wanted revenge on the simple-minded fools who had taken his power away from him in the first place.

He had considered it carefully. He wasn't crazy, after all. He had finally decided what his purpose in life was. Being possessed, or rather remembering being possessed, had made it clear. The demon had left him with so much knowledge. It was the kind of information he would have never dreamed to look for. And it would change his life, and grant him the power he so desperately craved now.

After all, he didn't just live for revenge. No, he had far greater plans in mind. Soon, very soon, everything would be in place. He'd have his choice of sacrifices and victims and get his revenge at the same time.

He'd have to practice, of course. He needed to be forceful, knowledgeable when it came to bending Annie to his will. He didn't want to make any mistakes when the other grand moment arrived. It wasn't just Annie he was after; And it wasn't just revenge. That would be too easy. He was after the full complement of dark power he had sensed within the demon.

First, he would perfect and embrace his dark side, carefully and reverently. Then, soon, he would be able to use the alter and fulfill his final plan, and step into his destiny.

He looked back towards the room behind him. Practice was important; he smiled thinly.

He left the balcony, entering the room behind him with purpose in mind.

He looked down at the bed. It was the only piece of furniture in the room. The woman looked up at him with large blue eyes. Tears streamed down her face and she moved almost desperately to try to back herself away from him.

It didn't do any good, however. He had checked the ropes that held her there himself, twice, actually. She was stuck, right where he wanted her.

"Pppmmmdd." Please? No matter. She was gagged for a reason. He didn't want to listen to her. He drew back to slap her, satisfied by the crack of his hand against her flawless cheek. No longer flawless, he corrected. Her head flew to the side and her eyes closed, clenched shut as if this was all a dream that would go away.

He drew a knife from his shoe. It was a small one, more to tease than do any real harm. He smiled at the thought of her fear, already feeling it come from her in dark waves of terror.

"Look at me, girl." When she clenched her eyes shut harder instead of obeying, he jerked her head up roughly by her pretty blond hair. "When I speak, you obey. That is lesson number one. You need to learn it well. Now look at me."

She opened her eyes hesitantly. Pain still radiated in her panting breaths, wide open eyes and slowly leaking tears. He let go of her hair and showed her the knife. Her eyes opened wider, which he hadn't thought was actually possible.

"You are mine. The sooner you obey, the better it will go for you." As he was speaking, he used the knife to slice slowly down her nurse's smock. It was thin material, giving up easily. He sliced through the small piece of fabric underneath and grinned at her fear. "What? It's not good for you? That's okay."

He spoke gently, his soft tone belying the words he knew would terrorize her.

"You're just here for practice. Mine."

Her screams, even through the gag, echoed through the room as he used the knife to rid her of the rest of her nurse's uniform.

The knife only slipped a few times. He clicked his tongue as he saw the evidence of his mistakes.

"I'll have to work on that. They do say practice makes perfect."

Over the next hours, he practiced. Using his knife, he practiced making small cuts, and carefully controlled ones. He practiced controlling his own reaction to her fear, her pain. It was an intoxicating experience.

Finally, he practiced using her body in other ways. He wanted her to know what was going to happen. He enjoyed using her terror to feed his desire, and he practiced drawing out that terror.

When he left the room, the broken woman laid unmoving where he had tied her. Small whimpers had replaced her attempts to scream long before.

He was grateful to the demon for leaving this darkness behind. It made such thingsdelightful. He had never before realized the pure primal power that such acts revealed.

He headed towards the bathroom, ready to take a shower.

He had to prepare himself - as fun as practice was, he still had plans to attend to.

* * *

"_**You need to go back to hell."**_

_**Larkin laughed, simply, dangerously.**_

"_**Annabelle. Some things are not meant to stay in Hell." He gazed at her with a sneer. "I'd be back before you could blink."**_

Annie bolted awake. She sat forward on the chair and tried to keep herself from falling over at the sudden movement.

She stretched. Yawned. Stared at the ceiling.

She sighed, looking over at the bed where her brother still slept and then leaned back into the chair. It was uncomfortable, but had served as her home away from home for just over 24 hours now, ever since she was released.

She gazed again at her brother, his slight form tangled in the sheet on the bed. Gently wiping his thick brown hair back from his forehead, she quickly placed a light kiss there. She grinned when he growled lightly. She tiredly tucked her hair behind her ear.

Maybe it was part a sense of responsibility towards her brother, or trying to sleep in a small chair, but something else kept her from getting any real sleep last night. She couldn't shake the nightmares. Every time she closed her eyes some memory, flashback, drove her to wake back up.

She rubbed her temples. The headache there only caused the memories to become scattered, broken, as she struggled to break free from their binding hold over her.

Even now, she saw moments in time flashing through her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut against the images, but instead saw them in her mind's eye more clearly.

_**Her parents and the last time they had spoken haunted her. It was rushed. A blur of strong arms as her father hugged her quickly. A smell of Jasmine as her mom kissed her lightly on the cheek. In typical fashion, they had spoken gently, let her rush past them in her oblivion. She had given them both quick pecks on the cheek and hurried on to her room to study. **_

If she had known it would be the last timeshe shook her head to clear those thoughts.

If she wasn't remembering her parents, she was remembering the events of just a couple days ago. Finding out a demon was involved in her life, might be hurting her little brother; That the demon responsible might have actually been behind her parents' deaths. The outright fear of having her little brother kidnapped.

She had some kind of freaky abilities, which she couldn't control at all.

And the ringerthe part that caused her to wake in a cold sweat most of the time she did make it to sleep: The fact that the demon was willing to use her brother to get to her.

It didn't make any sense.

It all sounded so crazy.

She was trying to turn her thoughts to more practical matters when her brother started tossing on the bed. Thinking at first it was a nightmare, she leaned forward to try to reassure him.

Then she realized he was actually waking up. She looked at the clock on the wall. It was close to 6 in the morning. _Oh, Bobby, sleep a little longer, sweetie._

Her unspoken wishes were ignored as her brother blearily opened his dark brown eyes. He blinked them a few times, trying to awaken the rest of the way.

He looked around, seeming confused, and then turned back to study his sister. He met her eyes for a second before staring at her necklace.

"Bobby home soo'?" Expectant. And hopeful. Annie sighed, knowing he would not like her ambiguous answer.

"I don't know honey. The doctor has to run"

"Bobby. Home. Now." His voice was getting louder as he interrupted her. She rubbed her temple, trying to stem the headache she knew was coming.

"Sweetie, Bobby was sick. The doctors and nurses are helping Bobby feel better. And as soon as they say, you can go home." She risked a glimpse at his face. _Uh-oh._

"Bobby fee' be'er. Go. Home?" He sounded quite firm in his assessment. She couldn't help a small grin. He crossed his arms and stared into space.

"Sorry, kiddo. Gotta hear it from the doctor." Annie grimaced as his head swung sharply towards her and his eyes pierced her with their brown depths.

"Bobby go now. An-nie ta' Bobby home now." He knew how hard it was for her to argue when he actually stared her down with those eyes. That was so manipulative. She grinned and shook her head.

"Sorry, sweetie. Gotta wait for the doctor. You really think those eyes'll work on me?" At her question he grinned and looked away. Oh, he knew what he was doing, she laughed inwardly.

"Bobby rea' Bib-el (read Bible)?" He referred to Annie's Bible that lay on the small table by his bedside. She grinned at his sudden change in tactics. When demands and puppy dog eyes didn't work, he would always just find something to read to pass the time. He glanced up hopefully.

"Sure, kiddo. How about we read some of it together?" She climbed up beside him on the bed, pulling him in softly for a quick hug before he pushed against her with a small growl. Then he relaxed into her and they held the Bible together.

"Deus, in nominee tuo salvum me fac: et in virtute tua judica me..." She started laughing softly and Bobby stopped, looking at her in surprise. He had been reciting from memory, and ignoring the book in front of him. It was open for her benefit, obviously. He studied her cheek.

"Hey there, kiddo. I don't know Latinhow about you cut me a break and read the English instead?" She looked at the Psalm in question and then glanced at her brother again. He was patiently waiting for her to pay attention so he could start reading the English version.

"The foo' has sai' in hi' hear', The' is no God" (The fool has said in his heart there is no God.). She started giggling again. Where did he get this verse, this Psalm, from?

Okay, enough.

She struggled to keep the giggles at bay, blaming them on exhaustion. With a silent apology to God for her inattention, she settled in with her brother, listening as he read. His solemn voice was slightly less serious sounding when he read in his sweet, broken voice.

How he could read entire texts of Latin in perfect intonation and still not speak English very well was another mystery of autism that she would never understand.

Her thoughts shifted between the holy words her brother was speaking and her own thoughts, his sweet broken words sounding an even cadence in the quiet of the morning.

As the rest of the hospital bustled with the business of saving and caring for people, their room grew calm with an unseen force of grace, and comfort.

* * *

He blinked. Looked up at the ceiling and pulled his head up to look around the room.

The dream, or nightmare, that had woken him was too jumbled to recall. He felt confused. A little scared. Then he spied his brother and relaxed.

Dean's head was bent to the side as his body relaxed into the small chair. His legs spread out in front of the chair and arms hanging. A light snore brought a smile to Sam's face. How he could sleep like that was a mystery.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself up and tried to sit up without using the bed's automatic head lift feature. He didn't want to wake Dean up . . . looked like he needed the sleep. His sore ribs caused a quick intake of breath as he shifted forwards, trying to find purchase sitting forward on the bed.

He looked over at Dean, relieved to see the slight noise hadn't woken him.

He felt the call of nature and looked around, trying to decide how to go about doing this without waking his brother or, shudder, calling for a nurse. All the monitors, leads, and cords overwhelmed him a little, and he shook his head.

He hated how easy he got scared and uneasy. He didn't care if it was literally all in his head, he needed to get a grip. He felt like he was ten years old again.

He could do this. He was 23, not 10.

Okay, first things first. He reached over and flipped the switch on the monitor, then he pulled all the leads off. He didn't need them anyway, stupid things.

Next he considered his IV. He studied the line attached to the pole, not wanting to take it into the bathroom. He spied where the main line attached to the separate one in his wrist, he twisted it off, then slid the lock over to crimp the line closed that ran to his arm.

Clear of all of the encumberments, he decided he really needed the bathroom. Badly. Now. He carefully slid to the floor, wincing at the shock as his feet hit the floor. Realizing he only had on a hospital gown, he paused for a second before deciding it didn't matter.

He hurried as quickly as his sore ribs and sluggish body would let him and made it just in time to heed the call of nature.

Afterwards, he leaned against the sink, trying to gain some momentum. He was wiped.

He rubbed a shaky hand across his eyes, refusing to look in the mirror. He knew he looked like crap. He wondered, suddenly, if it had been very wise to be so independent about going to the rest room.

He felt hot all over. Just as suddenly he felt everything fade to black. His vision stretched and skewed around him as he struggled to stay conscious. His arms lost their hold on the sink and he watched in slow motion as he lost control of his limbs, sliding bonelessly to the floor.

His last coherent thought was that he really should have just woken Dean up.

* * *

Silly Sammy ... he should have learned a long time ago that bad things happen when you don't let big brother help! LOL Well, what do you think? I'd love to know - why don't you give me some lovin'? 


	6. Ch 5 Getting Their Way

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 5 - "Getting their Way"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG now, R overall for adult themes: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** Sam and Bobby each have their own obstacles to overcome, but they each know how to get their way.  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to **Look Into His Eyes**. Now everyone is trying to deal with the aftermath of thier fight with a demon. But in the process of dealing, a new evil threatens them all.

_**Ch. 5 - "Getting Their Way" **_

Sam jerked awake some time later.

Confused, he stared around him. How did he get in here? He studied his legs, realizing they were cold. He was cold. He stared down at the hospital gown in disgust. It did nothing to shield his lanky frame from the cold floor. He backed himself up carefully, cautiously, and used his arms to push himself into a sitting position against the wall.

He was shaking all over, and not just from the chilly floor: A cold sweat covered him from head to toe. He really didn't want a nurse to find him like this. Forget what an idiot he looked like, he was barely freaking dressed. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

He resigned himself to calling out to Dean for help when everything faded once again.

This time his eyes didn't close, instead they stared sightlessly ahead as he fell to the side. He couldn't say anything, couldn't even move his mouth. Drool instead collected in his mouth and trailed to the floor. His arm started jerking solidly beneath him, causing his body to twitch as his runaway arm repeatedly hit his abdomen.

He lay in a heap on the floor.

A tear leaked unfelt from his eye and splashed to the floor.

He wasn't aware when the jerking in his arm marched down his body, and included his leg. And just a minute beyond that, when his whole body started to shake, his eyes had already rolled back into his head.

As the tremors ended, his labored breathing was the only sound echoing in the bathroom.

* * *

Dean woke with a start and moved his head gingerly, rotating it to try to lessen the pain. At first, he didn't realize what caused him to wake up. Then his eyes fell on the empty bed in front of him and he jumped up, all pain and sleepiness forgotten. Where was Sammy?

His eyes narrowed as he took in the unhooked IV and blank monitor, limply hanging cords still littering the bed. That idiot! Where had he gone? He looked around and saw the bathroom door cracked open. He heard a very light sound echoing in the small room and walked cautiously towards the door.

He recognized the labored breathing from a few feet away and crossed the room quickly, trying to throw open the door; something stopped the door from opening fully.

He stuck his head through the opening and saw his brother's long legs trembling on the floor. His brother was on his side against the wall, behind the door. The several inches of open doorway wasn't enough to let Dean into the small room. He pulled his head out of the room and banged his hand against the door in frustration.

"Sam? Sammy? Man, you've got to wake up and move over, man. Come on." He peeked into the bathroom and saw no indication that his brother was alert. He was about to go out the door to find a nurse but ran into Annie as she entered the room instead.

She grabbed his arm, and he was so grateful to see a friendly face he pulled her toward the bathroom door.

"Sam's in the bathroom and something's wrong ... he's in front of the door and I can't get in to him." Dean ran his hand through his hair and turned around with a sigh. He glanced back at the small woman when she stepped closer to the bathroom.

"Maybe you should call a nurse, Dean?" She poked her head in the bathroom and hurriedly pulled it back out again. "Um . . . Dean? Hold that. You think maybe we could find a way to Um . . . help cover him up first?"

Annie's horrified expression and bright red face told him what his eyes had missed just minutes before. He poked his head back through the doorway and cursed.

"He'll die if a nurse sees him like that, even if the most important parts are covered." He winked at her, grinning when Annie turned a brighter shade of red. He hadn't thought that was possible. He studied Annie and then looked back at the bathroom door.

"Hey, I think you could fit through there.maybe. Could you get in and try and move him just a little?" He gave her what he hoped was an innocent expression.

"But he's almost naked!" Annie squeaked.

"Nu-uh - he's covered where it counts. Seriously. Come on Annie. You can get in and get out and he'll never know. I just need to be able to open the door a little further and then I can get in there. . ." He gave her his most charming smile. "Please?"

Annie crossed her arms and tried not to smile at him, then sighed.

"Okay. I'll just try and move him a little and then let you take over from there." She lowered her eyes. Dean just grinned. He didn't think he'd ever encountered a woman quite that shy. It wasn't like Sammy was completely uncovered.

Annie moved to the door and squeezed through the small opening. It took her a minute of wiggling to contort her body just enough to inch through and she immediately knelt beside Sam, looking at his pale face and taking in his appearance.

"Oh, no! I think he might have had another seizure." She pried open one of his eyes and then shook her head. No. No. No! "Oh, man. Okay, let me get him moved over."

She studied his lanky form, deciding to try to pull his exposed arm. She grasped it firmly with both hands and pulled as hard as she could. And fell back with a grunt when his body didn't budge an inch.

_Okay God__ I know __I'm__ a wimp, but come on, help me out here__, please?_

"You okay, Annie?" Dean's head poked through the door to take in her predicament as she struggled up from where she'd fallen backwards. He obviously thought the determined look on her face was funny for some reason. "Oh, man, Annie . . . I know he's a big lug but you only gotta move him a little bit. Put some muscle into it."

He ducked his head back out of the bathroom when she directed a glare his way. She stared down at Sam and tried to decide the best way to go about this. First, she decided, she would just pull that stupid gown down a little more. Her face burned up as she realized he was just shy of downright naked. She closed her eyes. Oh, man.

She grabbed hold of the puke-green gown and then averted her gaze, closed her eyes, and yanked down hard. She peeked and was relieved to see the gown covered more than before.

She decided that if she angled herself just right, maybe she could use her momentum to pull him back up into a sitting position. She closed the bathroom door and planted her feet where the floor and wall/door met.

"Annie?" Dean's muffled voice floated through the closed door.

"I got a plan, Dean. Just ... give me a minute." She gritted her teeth and maneuvered herself so she could awkwardly grasp underneath both of Sam's armpits. With her feet planted, she propelled herself up and sidewards, pulling Sam into an almost sitting position and falling on her behind in the process. She scrambled to get up, falling over one of his legs instead. She struggled to sit up and move again when shooting pain pulsed through her ankle.

"Um. Dean? I think I moved him enough for you to get in. I'm just gonna scoot out of the way and you can come and get him, okay?" Only _she_ could manage to twist her ankle doing something so silly. She shook her head, trying to maneuver to the other side of Sam as the door opened behind her. It hit her sore ankle and she gasped. Gritting her teeth, she scrambled the rest of the way and planted herself on the other side of Sam.

"Uh.Annie?" The quiet voice startled her and she looked up, into Sam's confused eyes. _Oh, great, so much for getting in and out without him knowing_

"Hey, Sam. How are you feeling?" She was trying so hard to notice how red her face was getting. She couldn't help it she was a prude. _Just, Lord, please __let's__ help him and then get the __half-naked man out of here._

"Why are you in here? And" He looked down and seemed to notice his own predicament and his face turned bright red. He jerked against the bottom of the gown and just seemed to grow angrier at the inch or so of coverage he gained. "Dean?"

They both glanced up as Dean managed to make it into the now crowded room.

"He's awake now." Annie said unnecessarily. She turned her head to the side and wished she could die of embarrassment. Sam was sweet and, oh, Lord, very cute. And she did _not_ just see him like that.

"I couldn't get in the door, dude. Annie was able to squeeze through and move you a little." Dean glanced from Sam to Annie and then back to Sam's state of undress and grinned. "Oh. Come on, we're all adults here. A little skin isn't that big a deal."

He threw his hands up in a defensive move when Sam looked up to glare at him.

"Just ... can you help me out of here Dean? Please?" He looked pleadingly at his brother and Dean sighed. He reached an arm out to help pull Sam to stand, but had to catch him when Sam managed to make it up, just to topple again.

"I've gotta get you over a little so I can get the door open the rest of the way. Otherwise I can't lug your freaky butt out of here." Dean was trying to maneuver Sam a few more inches over to accomplish his plan when Sam's limp body betrayed him and he started slipping down again. Dean tried to catch him but ended up going down with him instead.

Sam landed on Annie, who grunted in surprise. Dean landed on Sam, who just groaned.

"God, Dean, get off me!"

"I'm trying!"

"Sorry Annie." Sam spoke softly, unwilling to make eye contact.

"'S okay, but Sam" She glanced up and couldn't help flinching as his weight settled over her legs. "Could you get off me?"

Dean jerked Sam's proffered arm and pulled him into a standing position. This time, Sam steadied himself and used Dean's arm for balance as he started towards the bathroom door.

Feeling a draft against his back he grimaced and used his other hand to reach behind and close the stupid hospital gown. Stupid things. His face reddened further. He stumbled and Dean used both arms to keep him upright.

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah. My balance is just a little off." He shrugged his shoulders and leaned on his brother as they reached the door.

"A little? What the hell happened Sammy? And what were you thinking in the first place?"

"I just didn't want to wake you up." He grimaced. That had really worked out well for him.

"Yeah, well, how'd that work out?" Dean's sarcastic reply just made him feel worse. He felt so muddy-headed already, he really didn't think he could stand to hear more lectures right now.

"Sorry for trying to let you get a little sleep, jerk." By now they were to the bed and Sam eased down onto the comforting coolness. He threw off Dean's helping hand and tried to push himself back into a sitting position. He hated feeling like a weak idiot.

"You still didn't answer. What happened? Annie thought you looked like you had a seizure - did you?" Dean studied his brother's pale face, the circles under his eyes.

"I don't know. Everything went black and I went down. When I came to everything faded again and I couldn't control anything. I fell over but I just remember not being able to move." The memory made him feel uncertain, a little scared. What was going on with his body? And with him?

"So you probably did have another one. Damn, Sam - you gotta think, man! I should call the nurse" He shoved a hand into his hair and turned. With a deep breath he turned back to face his brother.

His gaze flickered to the bathroom, though, and suddenly he stilled. A questioning expression on his face, he walked towards the bathroom.

"Dean? What . . . ?" Sam watched his brother walk towards the bathroom. _What was he doing?_

"Hey? You okay?" Dean was talking into the bathroom and Sam remembered Annie. After his soft landing – into the woman's lap no less - Dean walked him in here, forgetting her. Oops.

"Yeah." A very quiet voice answered. A shuffle of something and a loud thump had Sam moving to get up again.

"Sam, stay put. I'll help her up." Sam found himself obeying. _Just like a little kid_, he thought to himself disgustedly.

He watched instead as he heard quiet murmuring in the bathroom and then, a few minutes later, Dean walked out, supporting Annie as she leaned against him with a grimace on her face.

"I'm fine, just twisted it. It'll be fine." She pushed gently away from Dean and took a couple of careful steps forwards. "See? Fine."

She glanced over to where Sam sat on the bed.

"You okay?" She looked back at Dean. "You probably should call a nurse - they'll be upset enough that no one called right when he had problems"

She suddenly paled.

"I've gotta go back next door. Bobby could be jumping ship" She trailed off, eyes wide, and turned around, limping quickly towards the door. "Take care, Sam. Dean."

And then she was gone.

Dean met Sam's eyes and studied his pale face, which wasn't as pale since his cheeks were bright red.

"Come on, Sam. Get covered up and then I'll call the nurse, 'k?" Sam hunched his shoulders and placed his hands firmly on the mattress, pushing up to leverage himself so he could scoot backwards. Dean pulled the blanket up and let it float down to cover his brother's legs and hips.

"I hate these gowns." Miserable, Sam tried to move the gown to cover as much of his upper body as he could. At Dean's snicker he looked up. "What?"

"Cute, Sam, real cute." Dean's huge grin did nothing to answer Sam's irate question.

"What's cute? This stupid gown? You're nuts." Sam's eyes grew wide at his brother's loss of sanity.

"No, Sammy . . . you. All embarrassed over showing a little skin. Never knew you were such a prude." It seemed impossible, but Dean's face split into a wider grin.

"Oh shut up, jerk!" He blew out a breath and balled his fists in the blanket. Punching the button on the side of the bed, he let the automatic mechanism raise the head of the bed to a comfortable level and dropped his head back.

"Well, hey, if it makes you feel any better I think Annie was more embarrassed than you were. She almost wouldn't even go in the bathroom to help cause you were 'half naked'." Dean's voice changed pitch in a sad imitation of Annie's. He realized too late that sharing the woman's embarrassment didn't exactly help ease his brother's.

Oops.

He stepped up to the bed and pushed the bright orange button.

"Buck up, Sammy. Nurse'll be here soon. Gotta find out what's happening in that freak head of yours." He punched Sam lightly on the arm, grinning when Sam did the same, then he eased down to sit beside him on the bed.

"Dean, let's not make this a big deal - I wanna' get out of here, ok?" He looked pleadingly at Dean, who shook his head.

"I don't mess with seizures, Sam. When you're okay then we'll quit this place, but not until." He looked at Sam, who was ready to argue. "I mean it, Sam."

Sam closed his mouth and glared at him before looking back down at the sheet.

"I don't wanna' be here."

"You think I do?" Dean's eyebrow raised.

"Just ... come on Dean. Get me out of here." Sam pleaded with his eyes again. "Please? I'll take whatever medicine I have to but they can't do anything different here then I can do in a motel room."

Dean studied him for a moment, then glanced up as the nurse came in. He squared his shoulders and hit her with a full smile and head tilt.

"What do we have to do to blow this popsicle stand?" At her open mouth, he smiled charmingly. "It's not that the service isn't great, but my kid brother, here, he doesn't do hospitals. He'll feel better when he's out of here. So can you track down whatever forms we need and talk to the doctor?"

She stared at him.

"I don't think the doctor was ready to discharge him. But I'll go get him" Her eyes studied the brothers before she turned to exit the room again.

"Thanks."

"Don't say it yet. Still gotta convince the doctor. And, Sam?"

"Yeah"

"You better be okay, 'cause if I've gotta drag you back or" he shuddered. "Give you CPR or anything - I'm kicking your ass."

* * *

Annie paused at the doorway, staring in disbelief at the empty bed. He was asleep. She knew he was asleep just before she had gone to help the guys out next door. She glanced at the clock.

8 a.m.

Oh, man. She had been next door longer than she realized. _Bobby!_ She wasn't panicking yet. She wasn't . . . Didn't work. Her heartbeat sped up as she limped further into the room, peering under the bed and on the other side of it for her brother.

"Bobby?" She turned around, spying the bathroom door closed. Maybe . . . She limped towards the door, ignoring the pain in her twisted ankle in her hurry to look behind the closed door. Almost afraid to open it once she made it to the doorway, she hesitated just a second before turning the doorknob.

"Bobby?"

Flipping on the light switch, she gasped at the image he presented. Rocking violently in the corner under the counter, her brother had blood running down his arm. Where an IV had once been, one lone piece of tape remained. He had pulled it out - Probably in an attempt to get away from the bed when she hadn't been there.

Annie flushed with guilt as she examined him for any further injuries. He was trembling so hard and rocking against the wall hard enough to hurt his head and she crouched down beside him on the floor.

"Bobby? Sweetie, what's wrong? Annie's here now. I'm sorry I left the room honey. I'm so sorry" Her voice broke and a tear broke loose when she realized he wasn't even listening to her. He was rocking into his own little world; he didn't feel safe in this one right now. After everything he had been through, she couldn't really blame him.

She took a deep breath.

"Bobby?" She touched his arm and he flinched at the contact, pulling away. She forced it on him, though, and he growled in response. She shook his arm, just a little. It did no good. He just didn't want to deal with her.

"Honey I am so sorry, please sweetie. Annie didn't mean to leave you alone. Sam was hurt and I just went next door to try and help him out" She trailed off when his eyes suddenly moved towards the door.

"Sa' hur'?"

"He's okay now honey. I promise." But he wasn't listening to her, instead crawling out from under the counter and pulling away when she tried to pull him closer to her.

"Sa' hur'?" He questioned himself softly, looking still towards the door. "Sam-mie. He say call Sam-mie.. Sam-mie hur'?" His soft, one-sided dialogue continued as Annie watched. "Why Sam-mie hur'?"

He had finally directed some words towards her and Annie struggled to find the right way to tell him about Sam.

"Sam is sick, honey, and he fell down and needed help getting up again. He's okay now." She watched for a flicker of understanding, relieved when his stance relaxed upon hearing her words. She was still amazed at how attached he was to the taller man.

He took off toward the bathroom door and she grabbed his arm. He pulled, but Annie held on for dear life. She dug her heels in, pulling him closer to her even as he lashed out at her. She grunted when his arm connected solidly with her stomach. Still, she held on.

Finally, she wrapped her arms around his upper body, pinning his arms to him. She whispered in his ear, forcing him to strain to hear her. He stilled, but his arm still shoved at her uselessly.

"Bobby. You have to calm down. You can't go to see Sam right now, honey. Soon. But not right now." He struggled a bit more before relaxing into his sister's arms.

"Wanna see Sa'. Peas?" His soft voice was shaking with the threat of tears. Annie closed her eyes. "Wanna go ho'."

"I know you want to see Sam. Honey – I promise we'll see him soon, okay?" She ignored his soft plea to go home, not knowing what the doctor would have to say about that. But Bobby wasn't one to be ignored and he caught her omission.

"Wanna go ho'!" He whispered frantically. "Bobby go ho' now?"

"Oh, sweetie, we've got to make sure you're all better first. You don't want to get sick at home again. Then we'd just have to come back. It'll be okay. I promise."

"Wanna go ho', An-nie. Bobby go ho' now. Peas?" He met her eyes for a fierce second. Normally she scoffed at his attempts to manipulate her. He didn't make eye contact easily, and usually only when he wanted to tease her or when he just plain wanted something. But sometimes, when he was desperate for something, he would make eye contact. And she felt like this time, the fleeting look at his deep brown eyes had revealed true panic. She swallowed.

She couldn't promise him anything, just in case she couldn't finagle it. But, she'd try her hardest to sweet-talk the doctor into letting him go home.


	7. Ch 6 Little Brothers

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch.6 - "Little Brothers"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:**PGnow, R overall for adult themes: Overall rated for language,violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture)hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this storyuses lots ofreligious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'empity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:**Little brothers have ways of getting what they won't, as Dean and Annie find out.  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to **Look Into His Eyes**. Now everyone is trying to deal with the aftermath of their fight with a demon. But in the process of dealing, a new evil threatens them all.

_**Chapter 6**__** – Little Brothers**_

The little boy on the bed just stared at her, not meeting her eyes, and crossed his arms. He was obviously not a happy camper.

"Wanna go ho'!" He wasn't yelling, but Annie sensed he was heading for a yelling match. And she would never win one of those with him: She never had before.

"Bobby" She tried to placate him, but he stopped her. Tears were falling from his eyes and she felt like a mean big sister. _What_? It wasn't like she was torturing him here. She rolled her eyes at his continued his mantra.

"Wanna go ho'!" He opened his mouth to take a deep breath and started repeating his new statement. Annie tapped her foot. Her sore foot. She would not kill her defenseless, seven-year-old brother. She would not._Oh God__make him stop__. Come on. Give me a break. __God?__ Are you listening here? Please help get him calmed down._

She swore there were angels laughing at her as she struggled for patience she didn't feel. God was probably laughing too, she grumbled to herself. Man! By now, his little mantra was becoming a loud, annoying spiel. She closed her eyes.

_1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10..._

Didn't work.

"Bobby, stop that!" By now he was rocking. The movement added desperation to his chant _that _spurred her to action. He was just going to get more upset until she did something. She squared her shoulders and pushed the orange button.

She smiled thinly as her brother studied her movements, stilling for a moment even as he continued his chanting.

"Wanna go ho'. Wanna go ho'. Wanna go ho' Annie? When go ho'? Wanna go ho'?" Now he was mixing it up, changing his tone and pitch and a few of the words. Ugh. _Whoever said he needed to learn how to talk again?_

The nurse came into the room, stopping at the doorway as she stared at her brother with an undisguised look of amusement on her face. Her mouth twitched and she tried, and failed, to hold back a smile. She turned her eyes on Annie.

"Rough morning? Whatcha need?" She stepped a few steps closer. By now the grin was slipping as she realized that Bobby's mantra was an ongoing one. It didn't stop. He was like the energizer bunny. Going and going and going ...

"Can you page the doctor and get me his walking papers? I've gotta get him out of here before he just starts screaming. He wants to go home." She looked at the nurse pleadingly. The nurse returned her look incredulously.

"He can't go home yet!" The nurse studied Bobby, who was still rocking, still chanting. "Just calm him down."

Annie gritted her teeth, motioning the nurse closer.

"Look. He's autistic and he's going into a full meltdown. I just don't want him trying to hurt himself because he can't get what he wants, okay? 'Cause he will." The nurse rolled her eyes, and Annie took a deep breath, trying desperately to reign in her patience.

"Get the forms, and get the doctor. If I can't convince the doctor then we'll talk otherwise I really don't care what you have to say." As the nurse stalked out of the room, Annie winced. Sorry, _Lord. I blew it. _She paused and her face burned. _And__ yeah, I'll try and find her and apologize before we go too. __Promise._

She glanced up when she realized the nurse was back. So soon? Then her vision focused and she saw it was Dean. He stopped at the doorway and just stared. She looked down and realized they still hadn't cleaned up Bobby's arm.

And his mantra, although quieter, was still continuing.

"Hey little guy. You trying to get out of here too?" Dean walked in and eased down beside Bobby. Annie stared. What was he doing?

Bobby had quieted fast, his mouth slapping shut as soon as Dean said "hey." He stared at Dean's chest. Dean glanced at Annie, grinned and then looked down at Bobby again.

"Bobby go ho'." Bobby said it so quietly, they almost didn't hear him. Dean's grin grew a little wider.

"He really does look pathetic, doesn't he?" He met her eyes with a grin and she looked at him. Bemused, she nodded.

"He was hiding in the bathroom when I got back in here, and then it's like the floodgates opened. First he wanted S ... your brother." She stopped before she said "the name" - knowing at this point just the mention would be enough to start a new chant. "When I said no to that, he decided he just wanted to go home."

Dean nodded, looked down at the small boy again, and then chuckled.

"My brother convinced me he had to get out of here too.." He grinned broadly. "Begged me, actually."

"Little brothers." Annie said simply, grinning.

"I hear you." Dean leaned down to look a little closer at Bobby's arm. "Ouch. Let me get a washcloth for that."

"Thanks." Annie's eyes followed him as he disappeared into the bathroom. "Bobby, I think Dean's gonna help get your arm cleaned up, okay?"

Bobby mumbled something unintelligible. Dean was back within a few seconds with a dripping washcloth.

"Hey little guy. Can I wash that up a little? It'll make it feel better." Annie was amazed at the soft voice coming from the rugged guy. She was more surprised when Bobby's arm came up of its own volition, inviting Dean's ministrations.

A few minutes later and Bobby's now clean arm was close against his still slightly rocking body. But he wasn't chanting anymore. Just waiting, it seemed. Annie looked up from her perusal of her brother.

The nurse was back.

"The doctor said to go ahead and start the paperwork, but he wanted to pull one more set of labs. If there are any problems with them, she said you could follow-up with your family doctor. He didn't want him any more upset than he had to be" She trailed off, and looked with obvious disapproval at the paperwork as she handed it over to Annie.

"Well, when they are ready to do the blood draw they better bring along some extra help. It usually takes a few nurses to hold him down when he's awake." The woman looked at her in disbelief.

"Oh, we know what we're doing. We'll take care of it, don't worry." Her tone was just bordering on sarcastic, causing Dean's eyebrow to raise. The nurse left the room, and he looked over at Annie.

"Three?" He was obviously not sure about that fact either.

"Feel free to stick around. But if you do, you're helping hold him." Annie grinned at him, knowing he would be in for a shock. "Fair warning: autistic kids, heck, any kids, can be a lot stronger than they look."

Dean just looked at her, obviously still not sure about her claim.

The nurse came back, by herself, holding a tray of blood-drawing supplies. Annie shook her head.

"I told you, you're going to need help." She didn't mind that the woman was in for a surprise, but she didn't want it being harder than it had to be on Bobby.

"Ma'am, I know what I'm doing. I promise." Her condescending tone brooked no real argument and Annie seethed. _Fine._ The nurse wanted to be stupid, she would find out soon enough that Annie knew what she was talking about when it came to her brother. Annie smiled thinly at the woman and said a silent prayer. _Just__ don't__ let me deck her. Help Bobby stay calm. Please._

The nurse grabbed one of Bobby's arms, tapping against his inner elbow looking for his vein. She frowned and took the other arm. But Bobby really wasn't interested in being helpful and growled at her.

The nurse looked up at Annie.

"Did he just growl at me?"

"You made him mad." Annie shrugged her shoulders, and moved smoothly behind her brother, wrapping her arms around his stomach.

The nurse shook her head, preparing her supplies. The other arm had obviously satisfied her requirements for a good stick.

"Okay, Bobby. I'm going to do a little poke. It won't hurt a bit. Okay?" Up until now the boy had been watchful, but not combative. That changed when she started towards his arm with the needle.

Annie turned away, saving her face from his head as it started to frantically turn from side to side. She quickly locked his other arm under her own arms as they encircled his waist in an iron grip. But even with her hold, he was still able to fight back with his legs. And somehow, he was still able to move his entire body, pushing Annie back sharply even as she fought to pull herself forward.

He easily jerked his arm away from the stunned nurse, flinging his arm towards her in a lightning quick motion. Dean moved forward to try and help. But it was too late. In less than a minute, Bobby had proven he was no match for one extremely stupid nurse.

An hour later, the one stupid nurse had been replaced by four nurses from the Hospital's lab, who briskly collected their sample, efficiently and with a minimum of fuss. Bobby screamed at them and they didn't even blink. One of the nurses gave Bobby a sticker before they left the room in unofficial formation. Bobby threw the sticker over the side of the bed, watching it float to the floor with casual interest before pulling off his SpongeBob band-aid and flinging it the other way. Annie batted it away indifferently.

Dean stared at Annie.

"You're too nice."

"Oh, and what should I have done, promised to beat her up for being an idiot?" She teased Dean, knowing what he meant. But it wasn't her way to purposefully be drawn into a fight.

"Yeah, well. Still." Dean ran a hand through his hair and studied her.

His hazel eyes drew her in and Annie found herself reacting to some unspoken emotion that flickered there. He was thinking about his own brother, she realized, and feeling protective. He kept it hidden well.

Knowing that protective feeling all too well herself, she understood, and said nothing. An instant later, the expression in his eyes was filled with humor instead.

"He sure showed her, huh?" At his easy grin, she laughed.

"He normally does."

* * *

A few hours later Annie was standing in front of her stove, hands on her hips.

She was so glad to be back in her own home. She looked around with a satisfied sigh on her lips and dropped her arms. Concentrating on the bubbling concoction on the stove for a moment, she sniffed, stirred.

"More oregano..." She muttered softly to herself, pulling open the cabinet door beside the stove and pulling the spice out. She tapped a little more into the pot and stirred. Looking back into the cabinet, she decided on a little more garlic salt. After that, her eyes narrowed and she decided to throw in a little more chili powder as well.

She wiped her hands on her dishcloth before turning, walking around the corner into the living room.

They had all managed to escape the hospital about an hour ago. Annie had signed Bobby's discharge papers with relish, after which she and Bobby had gone directly next door for a much-needed visit between Bobby and Sam. Well, Bobby needed it. Sam had been sleeping. Annie grinned.

Within moments of Bobby's release, Dean was signing papers for Sam to go as well. When they had spoken about riding back to the hotel to sleep, she insisted the brothers stay with her and Bobby for at least a night or two. She figured fixing them some real food would have to be a fringe benefit to not having to stay in a dingy hotel room. She looked around. Not that her dingy place was much better, but still. It was the thought...and all that.

She saw Bobby's shaggy brown hair sticking up over the top of her sunken couch as she stepped into the living room. Sam sat on the couch. Well, he sprawled, really. His legs were kicked out, one resting on the end of the couch and the other hanging off to the side. His head rested against the opposite end. He was sleeping.

Dean sat in the lonely chair off to the side. His legs were crossed in front of him, head hanging to the side. He was drooling as his mouth hung open in sleep. Annie grinned at the image the tough guy presented. _Oh, for a camera_. Her step light, she walked over to look behind the couch and study her brother. Her grin widened.

He sat with the huge King James version of the Bible on his lap. He was hunched over, leaning in to study the words. _That's her boy_, she thought with a sigh. Silly kid, reading the Bible like other kids read comic books. She shook her head.

"Bobby?" Softly, she tried to interrupt his reading. That didn't work so she raised her voice a little, mindful of the sleeping men sprawled around her. "Bobby, sweetie...it's time to eat. I made chili."

With that pronouncement, he looked up. Suddenly more interested in food than the big book on his lap, he slid the Bible away and jumped up. It was hard to believe how sick he had been, Annie chuckled to herself.

"Bobby ea' Chi-yi (eat chili)" He spoke loudly, with no regard for the sleeping giants, instead running past her and settling in at the table.

"Did someone say chili?" A sleepy voice carried over from the sofa. "Smells good."

"Food? Do I smell food?" Dean's rough voice joined his brother's.

Annie smiled. Boys of all ages loved their food.

"Didn't mean to wake you guys. But, yeah, there's some chili in the kitchen if you're hungry. " She watched carefully to make sure Sam could unfold his long frame from her couch. He seemed wobbly to her, but he made it up okay. She turned to precede them into the kitchen.

She pulled bowls and spoons out, setting them on the counter. She grabbed one bowl and carefully scooped the meat, beans and macaroni into it. Stirring it to cool it, she carried it to the table and placed it in front of Bobby.

"It's hot, honey. Wait a minute to eat it, okay?" She didn't wait for a response, instead turning and opening another cabinet to grab a small cup. She filled it with milk and placed it in front of her brother as well. "Here, drink some of the milk first, then try the chili. See if it cooled down, okay kiddo?"

She felt eyes studying her movements and glanced over to find deep hazel eyes watching her. She flushed slightly.

"Need something?"

'Oh, no...I'll grab it." Dean walked purposefully over to the stove and ladled two bowls of chili, taking them to the table. He set one in front of Sam and stared down into the bowl in front of him. Inhaling deeply, he looked up and grinned. "Smells really good."

Sam was already shoveling spoonfuls into his mouth, and nodded at his brother's statement.

"'S really good." He spoke through a mouth full of food and Annie shuddered, looking away with a grin.

Boys.

When she looked back over, she found Sam and Dean playing. Each was opening their mouth to show the other, making funny faces while doing it. She was about to say something when she noticed another pair of eyes studying their actions. Bobby looked quite interested in what they were doing. He grabbed his spoon and shoveled a full spoonful into his own mouth.

He had barely put the food in his mouth before he hung his mouth wide open, looking at Sam and Dean with a wide grin around his open mouth.

Giggling ensued as Bobby joined their fun. They didn't realize they had another conspirator until his giggles ended up shooting some pieces of macaroni and meat across the table. A piece of macaroni stuck to the table directly in front of Dean, causing him to turn and look at their newest recruit. Sam's eyes followed his brother's and they both grinned around disgusting mouthfuls of food when they saw the little boy imitating their actions.

_Great!_ Annie groaned. They were creating a monster. She could envision Bobby, showing a teacher, or (shudder), a perfect stranger, his new skill. She turned away, busying herself with washing a few dishes.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Dean had swallowed and apparently caught the fact that she wasn't joining the fun at the table.

"No, I'm not all that hungry, actually." She grinned, her eyes flicking from Dean to her brother, who was still perfecting his new craft. She groaned lightly. "How am I ever going to get him to eat again?"

* * *

_In the light behind the scenes, the guardians gathered, watchful. The battle had begun, and a special one had fallen. _

_In prayer, the angels asked for protection for the one caught by evil. _

_In trepidation, they spoke of his guardian. Their voices soft in respect, they prayed for __Reelaiah__, asking for his strength and protection as he prepared the one for his role._

_Saddened by this first blow, they sank to their knees in further prayer for both the guardian and the one in his care. The holy one was now in the heat of the battle._

_The angel's prayers whispered towards the heavens. _

_And__ below, the ones they watched had no idea the battle cry had been sounded; The curtain drawn for both heaven and hell to watch._

_Now, there was no turning back. _

_It had begun._

* * *

Annie's eyebrows rose.

No answer. Weird. Andy should be at the church . . . he had told her as much when they spoke last night. But she'd been trying to reach him by phone for the last half hour, with no response. She pondered the significance and decided he must have just stepped out. She would try again later.

Turning around, she again felt Dean's eyes on her and grinned softly at him. She felt stronger. She really did.

But as she met Dean's eyes, her vision faded to black pain ripped through her mind, her body. There was darkness unlike anything she had ever experienced before. And then, bright light.

And after, she felt someone in her mind. Their emotions rolled over her and in her daze she was powerless to curb the fresh assault of pain they caused. Fear, pure fear. White hot and pulse-pounding. Anger - simmering below the fear. And bursting through it all . . . faith? She shook her head in confusion even while the agony ripped her apart.

Her body lost awareness, sinking limply towards the floor. She wasn't aware of sturdy arms catching her before she hit the floor. And she didn't feel the rocking that followed. Couldn't hear any of the desperate words on that side of consciousness.

Instead, all she felt was the presence in her mind.

It felt familiar, and yet so different.

She sensed something more physical now. Whomever she was sensing had been fighting, physically, spiritually.

But who? And then she felt . . . and in her confusion she realized her own fear.

Andy.

Something had happened to Andy. Some evil had found him, fought him. And now . . . She felt him submit, but only physically. Spiritually, he still fought.

She knew, because she felt him praying even while he was physically assaulted.

But even knowing so much, she still knew next to nothing. She only sensed, she couldn't see. She could feel, but only what Andy felt. Emotionally and physically, it seemed. But still.

Her body shook as her mind locked down, struggling to make sense of what she experienced.

Andy was alive. But for how long? What, or who, had him? She lost the connection only knowing he was alive, because he was still praying.

She sobbed mentally, his words still echoing in her head.

_"Forgive them for what they do, Lord. Give me strength Lord. Not mine, but Your will be done . . ."_ He had lapsed into the Lord's Prayer at that point, and then she sensed no more.

Her eyes opened instinctively trying to see what could not be seen.

Her mind and body gave out even as she fought to understand more. Her eyes drifted shut, and soon, she was no longer thinking, or feeling, anything. She was unconscious.

* * *

_A little warning, from here the fic has more twists and turns. The spiritual element of this fic really comes out to play with the OC's. There are a few parallels I hope you will notice between our brother and sister and the Winchesters. I'll leave them to you to note. _

_As always, I'd love to know what you think smiles_

_Kat_


	8. Ch 7 Unraveling

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch.6 - "Unraveling"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:**PGnow, R overall for adult themes. This chapter heavy religious references: Overall rated for language,violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture)hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this storyuses lots ofreligious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'empity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:**They're home from the hospital, but their troubles are just beginning. 

_**Ch. 6 - Unraveling** _

The brothers watched from the doorway as Annie tried to call the pastor once again. She hung up without leaving a message and while Annie didn't seem too concerned, there was a niggling feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach. As they watched, her slightly puzzled expression gave way to something darker in a flash of shifting emotions and she cried out in pain, closing her eyes. A slender hand flew up to clutch at her head as she swayed precariously.

Both men rushed forward. Dean caught her just before her body gave out and lowered her to the floor. Sam hurried to the sink, finding and wetting a washcloth before rushing back over to place it gently on her forehead.

She shook, and Dean held her close, soothing her like he did Sam sometimes. Sammy hovered, looking as agitated and unsure as Dean felt.

A soft moan escaped her lips along with a soft word.

"Andy."

She writhed in apparent agony and opened her eyes, sightlessly staring ahead as tears ran down her face. Her body trembled violently. Then suddenly, she was still.

Her eyes drifted shut as she slipped into unconsciousness.

The brothers' eyes met in troubled confusion.

"She sees things, kind of like you, right? Is that what just happened?" Dean's hazel eyes were concerned as he fleetingly glanced back down at the woman in his arms.

"She felt something...I don't know if she saw it or not. From what she said the last time, her visions, or whatever they are, they aren't like mine. They're different." Sam looked at Annie in confusion. "She said Andy's name so it was probably about him...you don't think...?"

"I don't know." Dean's simple words cemented their unease. Dean rose, and, wincing, lifted Annie and walked with her to the couch in the living room. Sam padded softly behind. Bobby's heavy footsteps on the stairs warned them before he rounded the corner into the living room. The little boy stared, wide-eyed, at his sister.

"An-nie!" Sam stepped back as he barreled past him, stopping to stare down at his sister. His bottom lip trembled and he started rocking on his feet. "An-nie hur'?"

He stepped hesitantly forward and dropped to his knees beside her still form, reaching a hand to tentatively rest on her cheek for a fleeting moment. Then he clutched at her shirt with both hands, gathering the material tight within his small hands, twisting it.

"An-nie..." His voice was soft. A tear gathered in the corner of his eye, then pushed away, rolling down his cheek. "Bobby hep'."

The boy lowered his head, resting it on his hands, soft words muffled against his hands. Within moments, the boy was still and quiet, his head dropped to rest on Annie's chest and he closed his eyes, face relaxed. Annie began to stir a moment later, groaning, and brought a free hand up to her brother's head.

"Bobby?" She opened her eyes, blinking. She leaned her head down to see her brother and groaned again at the movement.

As pain knifed through her, her eyes opened wider and she looked up to see Dean and Sam looking at her...she blinked.

"Andy...you've got to check on Andy. Something's wrong . . . I felt...something . . . I can't . . . please . . . Please!" Not able to put coherent thoughts together, she pleaded with her eyes. Dean looked at Sam, who studied Annie and then glanced up at him.

"Go. I'll stay with them. "

"He was at the church, right? So I should start there..." Annie's hesitant nod spurred him into motion, Sam following him to the door.

Considering the strength behind Annie's psychic thingie, and her reaction after the fact, Dean wasn't under the illusion that he would be finding Andy at the church, unharmed and looking at Bibles.

* * *

_**½ hour earlier. . .**_

The pastor leaned back into his chair, rubbing his eyes clear from hours of researching. Lined around the edge of his large oak desk, books created uneven stacks high enough he barely reached them.

Thoughts of demons and angels fled as he considered taking a much-needed break and stood up, stretching his six and ½-foot figure. Maybe he would go to the diner and grab a drink and a piece of pie. His stomach rumbled in acceptance of that idea.

First he stopped by the main office to inform the senior pastor's secretary where he was going. He saw the secretary's eyes dance at the thought of pie and told her he would bring her back a slice as well.

His step was light as he walked the familiar path towards the diner. It was only around the block, literally. He cut through the church parking lot, humming a hymn as he walked.

Andy was surprised to come face to face with three men at the edge of the parking lot. Their fighting stances warned him of their intent seconds before the assault began. And while he fought valiantly, the three wore him down. In a last ditch effort, he charged, connecting with one man and disabling him with a sharp karate chop to the back of the neck. He turned to face another man, delivering a roundhouse kick to his stomach and then putting all his strength behind a hit to the man's back. He dropped and Andy turned to face the last man.

Andy realized his mistake a moment too late when he felt the imprint of a gun in the small of his back. There were two men left, not just one. He hung his head, breathing heavily, and tried to decide on another plan of action as he held his arms forward in mock surrender. He was just about ready to drop and turn when someone grabbed one of his arms unceremoniously, jerking him around to face his newest threat. _Help me Lord_

Daniel Larkin sneered as his eyes burned bright blue. The clear evil on the man's face confused Andy.

"Hello there, pastor. Surprised to see me?" Larkin leaned forward, his breath hot against Andy's down turned face. "You're the first to fall. So you should feel special. Special indeed."

Larkin nodded to the man now behind Andy, and in response, he felt his arms pulled back, wrists lashed tightly together. The holy man knew anger. In saving this man from being demon possessed, what had they created?

Clearing his mind, Andy struggled to remain calm and aware of the men around him. An engine sounded close-by, and he heard a vehicle driving down the alley behind him.

It didn't make sense.

Larkin's next words explained more than he wanted to know and drove fear straight through him; he struggled for the calm of a moment before.

"You took the demon away from me. All of you will pay." Here he leaned in inches from Andy's face. "But I wanted to start with you."

He stopped and stepped back again, clearly working for control. When he looked up his blue eyes flashed dangerously. He gazed around Andy and nodded behind him. He was pulled off balance as he was jerked around dragged to the waiting vehicle. It was a van, he realized as he was pulled inside.

He wanted to fight, but was out of his element. _What do I do, Lord?_ The answer came to him and washed over him gently.

_Be still, and know that I am God._

Easy to be still with his hands tied, Andy thought to himself. He looked up when he realized someone was crouched beside him. The van started to move, knocking him off balance and into the person. Larkin.

"Now, we have time to chat." Larkin leaned back, relaxing against the side of the van. He studied Andy, who couldn't help staring back angrily.

"Why are you doing this? We dispossessed you and sent the demon to hell. We freed you." He was surprised by Larkin's quickness as he sprang forward and punched him solidly in the stomach. He bit his lip to keep from groaning.

"You didn't free me, you holy idiot! You stripped me of it's power! You took it away from me and it was a part of me. It belonged with me." He glared at Andy, who was still breathing through his teeth in an attempt to quell the pain. He wanted to just ignore Larkin, but knew he couldn't. Not if he wanted to understand his motivation, find a weakness, catch any chance of escaping.

"I have plans for you, and the rest of that stupid gang. The boys, and Annie." He looked down at Andy and his eyes gleamed. "Especially Annie. The rest of you will die. She will just wish she had."

Andy looked back at him, eyes wide.

"You're crazy! Why would you..." Larkin cut him off with a vicious slap to his cheek.

"I'm not crazy!" He all but growled at Andy in his anger. He swallowed and calmed himself, then grinned an evil little smile. "You and the rest of them - you'll die when the time is right. One of you will even get a starring role - I haven't decided which."

He trailed off, looking into nothing with a calm, detached, yet gleeful look on his face. He shook his head and then glanced dismissively down at Andy.

"Soon, everything will be in place. I'll have the power again...This time, you won't be around to take it away." He smiled, looking calculating, yet barely lucid at the same time. He glanced toward one of the other men, positioned just outside of Andy's range of vision. Nodded.

"I'm done with him, gag him, blindfold him, and do whatever else you want. Just don't kill him yet." He smiled dangerously. "I want that honor."

Andy closed his eyes, readying himself for what was to come.

_Pray_.

The one word carried to him softly and he blinked in surprise. He couldn't help but obey. Worried now about Annie, Bobby and the Winchester brothers, he first lifted them up in prayer. _Lord, please protect them, and help keep them safe. No matter what, help them be okay, Lord, please._

As his eyes were covered and his mouth invaded, he silently continued his prayer, trying desperately to block out the punches raining all over his exposed body. Not able to fight them anyway, he did the only thing he could do...he prayed.

As the blows came harder, he held onto consciousness, praying silently

_Lord, I __don't__ know if I'm going to get out of this..._He continued to pray softly, the words falling without conscious thought. _Give me strength Lord. _Trying desperately to still block the pain he recited the first prayer that came to mind.

_Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name_

His silent prayers stopped suddenly as the physical assault pushed him into oblivion.

* * *

_The guardian wept silent tears as he stood watch over the holy man's now still form. _

_He cried out to the heavens. _

_Knowing that no peace would come from the questioning he sighed deeply and knelt beside his charge. He whispered softly, weaving verses into the pastor's subconscious mind. _

_He unfurled his wings and surrounded his unmoving charge, dimming the outside world's affect on him. As his body lay broken, the man's consciousness stirred slightly. His spirit was still strong; __Reelaiah__ could feel it._

_Reelaiah__ knew the role pastor Andrew had in this battle. _

_While he might be the first casualty, he __wasn't__ out of the battlefield. Instead, he was now deep within enemy territory. __Reelaiah__ shuddered as he felt the evil in this moving vehicle. He lifted his head and looked towards heaven. _

_No matter what was to happen, he would be steady at the holy man's side. For this was his battle too. No matter the outcome, he __was charged__ with the spiritual care of this human. _

_The angel looked down at the still man. He laid an angelic hand on his head and prayed, lapsing into the most ancient of languages._

_As he finished his prayer, he turned to study the others in the vehicle. _

_While he could not interfere, he would still be alert._

* * *

"Everything okay there?" Relieved at Sam's quick affirmative, Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. He turned to look back at the area that had attracted the bulk of his attention already.

"I'm pretty sure Andy was taken. But that's all I got. The secretary in the main office was waiting for our priestly dude to bring her back a piece of pie, but the folks at the diner said he never made it there. So..." Dean paused, wondering where they could really go from here. He studied the area towards the back of the church parking lot once again, hoping for a clue he might have missed.

His eyes narrowed on the same area as before, raking a practiced eye over the signs of a struggle.

"Looks like at least three, maybe four guys were waiting for him at the edge of the parking lot. He fought back..." He was trying to piece more of it together. "I see fresh tire tracks, mid-size truck, van maybe?"

He was frustrated, knowing almost nothing more than when he started. The ten-minute drive over here he had run over all possible scenarios. They all led back to Larkin.

"I'm heading back to you guys." He hung up with Sam and walked slowly towards his car. Something caught his eye as he turned and he paused, then stepped backwards to make sure he wasn't imagining things. He finally felt like he had caught a break. There, staring out into the alleyway, was a camera . . . it might have caught what happened to Andy.

He flipped his phone open to call Sam and frowned with it entered voicemail. He had just spoken with him...why wouldn't he answer? He stared at his phone, waiting for an answer. Then he moved with purpose towards his car once again. The camera would wait. He needed to get back to Sammy.

The knock at the door surprised Sam and the Carvers. Annie was still lying on the couch with Bobby at her side. He looked back at them guardedly and, at Annie's slight nod, he went towards the door.

"Bobby, go behind the couch, sweetie. And you stay there, you understand." When the boy didn't listen, she barked the order again. "Bobby, behind the couch, now!"

He listened this time, moving quickly behind the couch. Annie raised herself to sitting on the couch, trying to fight the vertigo that assaulted her quick motion.

The ringing of Sam's phone seemed ironic given the stress of the moment. But Sam couldn't make it to his phone. Instead he was almost to the door, about to look through the keyhole, when the door burst open.

Quickly switching into a fighting stance, Sam took a moment to adjust to the newest threat and his eyes widened in surprise at what he saw. Too many of them were pouring into the doorway so he faded back from the door.

He gulped, putting his hands up in a submissive position. By this time, Annie had gotten up and made her way over to stand by him.

She grinned up at his obvious discomfort, then back around at their visitors.

"I take it they're here for you?" Sam's incredulous voice was slightly panicked.

Annie nodded and stepped forward.

* * *

Dean muttered obscenities at every red light and stop sign.

It was only a ten-minute drive, but it seemed like everything was stacked against him. A few minutes later, when he pulled up in front of the Carver house, the vehicles there didn't really ease his mind. He frowned.

He placed his gun in the back waistband of his jeans, pulling his shirt down carefully to hide it. He grabbed a small flask of holy water and his favorite knife, sliding the knife into his boot and tucking the holy water into the pocket of his leather jacket, which he shrugged into upon getting out of the car.

He walked carefully up to the house, noting the energy coming from the house. He could tell there were several people inside, but shadows against the window didn't give him any further information.

He paused at the door, considering the best way to go about this. He wasn't sure of the threat inside, but didn't want to tip his hand. So instead, he just opened the door and walked through like an old family friend.

His eyes grew wide at the level of activity coming from inside the house. He hadn't been prepared for this. There were people spread throughout the living room and kitchen. He stepped back in surprise when someone appeared at the base of the stairs.

Summoning his cheekiest grin, he looked around until he found Annie. She met his eyes across the room with raised eyebrows and a small knowing grin.

"Sam took Bobby upstairs...too many people..." She trailed off and looked about ready to choke as someone cut her view of Dean off. He stared at the person in front of him. His eyes widened for a split second, and then he planted what he hoped was a charming smile - it might have been a grimace instead, he wasn't sure.

"Well hello there, sonny. You must be one of Annie's little friends." The short woman had planted herself firmly within Dean's personal space and leaned forward with her eyes almost up to his chin, studying him, her hands planted on generous hips. "Well, don't you worry none...we brought lots of food and we're taking care of cleaning the house up for poor little Annie. Poor dear . . . really . . . getting in an accident."

She shook her head and grabbed Dean's arm, dragging him into the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder and met Annie's eyes, glaring when he saw the grin she was trying to hide.

The woman pulled him over to the table.

"Sit."

He sat. He couldn't believe the number of people around the house. In the kitchen alone there were five women, scrubbing and sweeping, chatting among themselves. Dean looked down at his hands and considered what excuse would save him from the threat of church ladies.

All thoughts fled as a bowl was placed in front of him. The scent wafted up to him and he grinned and sighed happily.

"Chicken noodle soup. Homemade. It's perfect for what ails you." The woman pulled out another chair and plopped down to sit, studying Dean. He ignored her and instead picked the spoon up to take a bite. He groaned in satisfaction as the spoonful hit his taste-buds.

"This is awesome." He looked up to see the woman beaming proudly.

"'Course it is...I made it."

He about choked at the woman's easy statement.

"You finish eating that and then you can come sit in the living room with Annie and we'll have a chat."

"My brother really should be the one to do the talking...he's so much better at it than I am." He smiled genuinely at the woman, who patted the table and stood. She grinned down at Dean.

"Well, then, I'll just send Patty up to keep little Bobby company and we'll let your brother come down too. Then you can all of us have a nice chat."

Damn! Dean cringed inwardly, thinking he probably shouldn't even be thinking swear words at this point. At least if he was going to suffer, Sammy would too.

He took his time eating his bowl of chicken noodle soup, barely registering when his brother's long form sat across from him at the table.

When he looked up, Sam's look was murderous.

"Hey, I gotta suffer - you do too." At that, Dean gave his brother a familiar teasing grin. His fun came to an abrupt end as another lady sidled up to the table, staring at them with undisguised interest. How could they tell the lady to get lost?

Maybe Sammy . . . but as he looked up and met his brother's eyes, he saw the same level of panic there. Okay, maybe Sammy couldn't help that much.

How to save themselves?

"Sam...you eat anything yet?" He looked pointedly at his brother, who caught on quickly.

"No, and I'm starving too...what's that you got there Dean..." He studied Dean's bowl innocently as he played his part. "Looks like chicken noodle soup...mmmm...can I get some?"

Dean looked hopefully at the little lady who was still staring at them in awe. He absently wondered if the holy water in his pocket worked against little old ladies too. Nah.

"Could I get another bowl too?"

They escaped having to regale the little ladies with their exploits when Annie took pity on them and claimed a massive headache. The ladies took their leave with little clucking sounds.

When Annie closed the door behind the last helpful woman, she leaned against the door with a sigh.

"Almost worse than facing a demon, huh?" She grinned at the boys, completely enjoying their discomfort. Dean smirked at her with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"Don't worry, we'll get you back for that." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"So . . . about Andy? What did you find out?" The question was whispered softly. She looked like she was scared to find out.

"I didn't have a chance to tell her anything..." Sam whispered to Dean as he cocked his head towards him.

"Well...I didn't get much. Sorry." He glanced up at Annie and then swallowed. "I found his trail. He was supposed to go to the diner to get some pie. The secretary at the church said he told her he'd bring her back some, but never did. The diner said they never saw him. So I concentrated on looking in between and I think..."

He paused and took in Annie's pale expression. Lowered his head.

"I think he was attacked towards the edge of the parking lot. Looked like three, maybe four guys jumped him, from the prints I could make out. Then he was dragged to a vehicle in the alley." He saw the tears flowing down her face and swallowed. He looked over at Sam, who met his eyes with understanding.

"Why don't you sit down, Annie. We'll figure out what to do, okay?" Sam guided her towards the couch, and he didn't back away when she leaned into his chest and sobbed. He looked awkwardly at Dean, and then started patting her back. He leaned his cheek to rest on the top of her head, feeling her sobs and soft shudders.

Bobby chose that moment to venture carefully down the stairs. He looked around, and Dean figured out immediately what the little guy was checking out.

"They're all gone, little man." He smiled at the grin that lit up Bobby's face. He shielded Bobby from his sister on the couch and guided him into the kitchen instead. "Why don't we get you something to eat, okay?"

He was just about to lead the boy through the doorway into the kitchen when a knock sounded at the front door. He shuddered. Church ladies.

He turned to meet Sam's eyes, flickered his gaze at Annie, and sighed, turning towards the door.

"I'll get it Dean...take care of Bobby." Annie struggled to right herself against Sam's shoulder as she raised off the couch. "It's probably Patty, or Gertrude."

She wearily stumbled towards the door, glancing at Dean with a slight grin on her face before squaring her shoulders and turning the knob on the door.

But just as she had started to open the door, it flew open. She stepped back and opened her mouth to scream.

* * *

I know - a lot going on ... but tell me what you think!


	9. Ch 8 Attack

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 8 - "Attack"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter heavy religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** The Winchesters and their friends face ferocious attack.  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to **Look Into His Eyes**. Please read through my author's notes **Here** (from first chapter) and **Here** (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) if you need more information, explanations, etc. Previous chapters can be found at my journal.

_**Chapter 8 - Attack**_

It all happened so fast, but it seemed like slow motion to Dean.

The door flew open and Annie screamed. On his side, he sensed Bobby's extreme agitation. On his other side, he recognized the tall form of his brother rising swiftly off the couch.

He was already reaching behind him for the gun tucked into his waistband when he locked eyes with Annie.

"Dean...get Bobby out of here!" She ripped her eyes from him as she turned to face a large man barreling towards her. Dean was torn. He turned his eyes on Sam, who nodded to him and reached purposely behind him to grab a gun from his own waistband. His dark eyes flashed murderously and he used his free hand to swipe his bangs out of his eyes.

Dean stepped back, pulling Bobby fully behind him. He risked a glance at the boy and was horrified at the look of fear that froze the small face. The expression on Bobby's face looked literally frozen, eyes wide open and pupils dilated while the boy took long shuddering breaths, starting to tremble violently and rock on the balls of his feet.

Dean violently shook his head to clear it and pushed Bobby to the other side of the doorway, quickly moving beside him and out of the view of the front room.

"Bobby...Bobby!" It was a frantic whisper, and it didn't faze through the boy's terror at all. "Hey, kiddo...I know it's scary but I need you here buddy."

No recognition, same wide-open eyes and trembling countenance. He glanced around, eyes resting on the only place the boy could really hide. A tall sideboard leaned mournfully against the far wall. Dean pulled Bobby over to it swiftly and tucked him inside the bottom.

"Bobby, I know you're scared. I am too. But I need you to stay here and be brave. Can you do that." Something in his words broke through the boy's fear and he locked eyes with him for a split second.

"Bobby bra'." A swift nod and the boy stiffened his spine, still rocking slightly. He nodded to himself again. "Bobby bra'."

"You sure are kiddo." Taking a second to consider, he pulled tablecloths from a shelf along the wall and draped them over the boy, trying to arrange them so it wasn't obvious what they were hiding. Dean edged the door of the cabinet shut.

He turned swiftly and raced to the front room, finding his brother engaged with one burly man while another advanced on Annie. Far from being the damsel in distress, though, she glared at the man and swiftly sent a leg straight up and in between the man's legs. He dropped.

She pummeled him with a small fist and then gasped, pulling her hand up to shake. Her eyes met Dean's and widened. He knew where her thoughts were, even in the heat of this assault.

"He's okay." He didn't want to say anything that could give away Bobby's location. Annie nodded, not really looking relieved. Both turned their attention to the battle at hand.

Dean took a split-second to assess the situation, then moved forward quickly to help Annie. The gorilla she had kicked was beginning to recover. As the man reached for Annie, Dean yelled at her to duck as he grabbed the man's arm and pulled him off balance. Annie dropped to all fours as the man lost his balance and tumbled over her onto the floor. Dean was on him as Annie scrambled away towards the couch.

Meanwhile Sam was still wrestling with his own attacker. The two men had been trading punches, with neither gaining any ground. Suddenly the man caught Sam with a vicious upper cut and he staggered back towards Annie; he would have fallen but she managed to steady him.

He nodded his thanks and stepped forward to meet the man again. They circled each other warily before locking arms and then again trading blows.

Dean ducked and landed another punch to his attacker's face, followed by another, until the man appeared dazed. He looked up to check Sam's progress with his man and almost laughed as he saw Annie hanging from the guy's neck, as Sam continued to slam his fist into the man's mid section.

His mirth was short-lived, as he watched what happened next in slow motion.

Sam landed another good punch and the man struggled to stay upright. Realizing he needed to dislodge Annie, the man pulled Annie's arms. Yanking roughly, he was able to dislodge the slight woman easily as he pulled her forward hard.

"Annie!" Dean and Sam yelled in unison as the man's head connected solidly with Annie's forehead. Annie never heard them as she fell heavily to the floor, unconscious.

The impact didn't have the desired consequences for the big man. He blinked his eyes once, twice and then let out a soft groan as he slid to the floor.

Dean punched the man in front of him, connecting with his temple and knocking him out before jumping up to try and help Annie. But another addition to the room stopped him short. More importantly, the gun he held steadily made his hands go up in submission.

Dean put his hands in front of him, Sam doing the same. They wore identical expressions of anger on their faces.

The next moment, everything shifted in the room again, as a small figure came barreling in the room, oblivious to everything but his sister's still form.

"Annie!" Small fists pummeled the huge man who lay partially over Bobby's goal. The little guy was shaking horribly and moving in jerky movements, looking almost like he was about to have a panic attack. He pushed roughly against the man's shoulder.

Everyone seemed frozen on the sight of the small boy. He huddled beside his sister, sobbing now as he patted her cheek and pushed on her chest.

'Come on, move, kid!" The gun-toting jerk was uncaring to Bobby's sobs. When Bobby didn't move, the main steadied his gun and again barked at the small boy. "I said to move it kid!"

"He doesn't understand you! He's autistic!" Sam screamed at the man in indignation and frustration. He stepped forward, and the gun swung towards him, pausing his forward motion. "I can calm him down. Just let me!"

There was confusion as the next moment passed in a blur.

"An-nie...An-nie...An-nie..." The soft mantra softly fell from the boy's lips, and he rocked with an almost frenzied need to calm himself.

Sam cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, tightening his lips in a frustrated, unspoken attempt to get the man to ignore Bobby and just let him help the boy.

Dean watched this all out of the corner of his eye. He was focused more intently on the man holding the gun...now on his brother. He saw the flicker in the man's eyes. Heard the muttered unintelligible curse word. And watched through narrowed eyes as the man swallowed and brought the gun down and slightly to the right.

He knew where that would put the shot even before the man's next warning, and a quick glimpse out of the corner of his eye cemented that fact.

"Kid, shut up! And move away! I'm warning you...just...shut...up!" The man was sweating, gun pointed right at Bobby.

He registered the tightening in the man's finger as he readied to pull the trigger. And he didn't stop to think before throwing himself widely to the right, crouching and covering the small, shaking boy. In that split second, the gun was fired.

Dean knew it was going to happen, and before the bullet pierced his back he swallowed, unconsciously tightening his hold on Bobby. He raised his eyes to meet Sam's wide green ones.

Unspoken apologies passed from Dean to Sam. Sam convulsively swallowed, then raised dangerously flashing eyes to the shooter as Dean dropped to his side with a heavy thud.

"You asshole!"

"Shut up, and get on your knees. I can still take out the kid." The gun moved to center on Bobby's shaking, rocking form. The little boy was oblivious, noticing instead Dean's vacant expression and still form. Sam dropped to the ground, eyes trained on Dean.

"De'?" Bobby studied the man and leaned over, touching his chest. When Dean groaned, he pulled his hand back quickly and bit his lip. He closed his eyes and bent over Dean, as if shielding him from everything going on.

Dean heard Bobby's mumbled prayer on his behalf and blinked. He cursed his weakness, unable to force his body to move. He felt so heavy, sleepy. The pain really was a distant memory right now and the fuzzy haze that remained wasn't that comforting given the show he had to watch.

The man was watching Bobby with growing agitation. Sam noticed the shaking hand and itching trigger finger, and eased himself closer to Bobby.

"Bobby, can you come over here? Let Sammy hold you, kiddo? Please?" The boy moved begrudgingly towards Sam, still oblivious to the threat. Sam glared at the man as the gun followed Bobby's movements. "He's just a little boy... let me hold him...please?"

He had ground out the "please", resenting begging for anything. Inside his head, he was screaming. Worry for Dean overshadowed everything. He couldn't see the entrance wound, and could tell there was no exit wound. And the way Dean had collapsed almost immediately...he knew it wasn't good.

He swallowed, hating the helpless feeling the filled him. He glared at the man, reaching out and pulling Bobby in to shelter him within his own arms.

The other two attackers were starting to come around and looked around at the chaotic scene.

"George, get your butt in gear. We've got to get them out of here." The one called George rose to his feet, glaring down at Dean and kicking him in the gut. Dean twitched on the ground but showed no other reaction. "Don't worry about him. He's as good as dead."

"I'm going to kill you!" Sam couldn't help the outburst but regretted it immediately when the man he'd been fighting seemed to rise out of nowhere and glared down at him. In one swift movement, he stripped Bobby from Sam's arms and backhanded the boy, sending him stumbling back towards his partner. Bobby drifted to the floor and Sam watched in horror as the innocent child moaned softly and then went still.

He turned his gaze back to the man in front of him, looking up for once because he was still on his knees.

"Why did you do that? You..." He bit back his words at the man backhanded him, connecting with his temple and causing black spots to dance in front of his eyes.

He struggled to remain upright. Clenching his fists, he was prepared to strike back regardless of the consequences. But the cocking of a gun behind the asshole dashed his hopes of revenge. He looked around instead, taking in the carnage. Dean was lying in his own blood, breathing but no longer truly conscious. Bobby was a small pile of quiet on the floor, and Annie was still out. It was just him. He swallowed, and tried desperately to consider a plan, any plan, that might give them a fighting chance.

All thoughts fled at the sound of a vehicle closing in on the house. Sam turned his head...what? He realized things had just taken another crappy turn.

The asshole walked past him and opened the back door with a grin.

"Don't move, kid!" The one with the gun spoke, causing Sam's head to swivel back to him. He had moved closer, and the gun was now just a couple feet from his face. Sam swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling quite dry. He recognized the wispy tendrils of true panic starting to overtake him and silently forced his emotions to the back.

He realized by the sounds behind him that these men had indeed run a vehicle through Annie's back yard and up to the back door. Three in here, and at least one driving said vehicle...Sam wondered how many more there were. He recognized a couple of the men from when Bobby and he were kidnapped before.

He heard the men as they walked through the door. He listened, making out three separate sets of footsteps. He studied the man holding the gun, wishing he stood a fighting chance of jumping him. But with everyone else down for the count...and Dean...

Sam again shoved his emotions to the back, trying to convince himself that his brother's breathing sounded steady, not raspy. His eyes narrowed again on the man with the gun, his anger renewed when he remembered who had shot his brother.

Without warning, the man with the gun moved closer to Sam, putting the gun under his chin and pushing it. Sam glared at him.

"We're about the take a little trip here, kid. Might wanna say goodbye to your friend there - I don't think he's gonna make it." The man's sneer was enough to turn his stomach.

"My brother..." Sam's whispered words were only important for him. That was his brother over there, and he was stuck here like a heel. Helpless. A tear escaped from his eye, rolling a burning trail down his face. He met the man's eyes unflinchingly though. He didn't know how, but he would find a way to get this guy back.

A sharp pain to the side of his head took Sam by surprise. He hadn't noticed the man draw his arm back and strike out with the butt of his gun. Instead, he sank into unconsciousness, limply falling to the side.

A trickle of blood wet the carpet, his wound there re-opened with the intensity of the blow.

The living room hummed with the evil energy at work.

* * *

Hefting the petite Annie up on his shoulders, a burly man known as James scowled over at George.

"I don't care what you say, why can't we just have a little fun before we take 'em back." He looked meaningfully at the woman dangling from his shoulder and back to his friend.

"You weren't there before, man. This guy...Larkin...he has the devil in him. Or something. You don't want to cross him. Besides he especially wants that one for himself..." George was struggling with the now dead weight of the tall lanky boy. He remembered his quiet strength from before. "Whatever we do, don't put the little kid and this one together...they got some freaky shit they do when they're together...some kind of power or something."

James looked over at George with a grin...and shook his head. He shifted the weight of the girl and headed towards the door.

"Whatever, George. As long as I get my money it don't matter if I get to have some fun or not."

He left the house with his load, leaving George to bring the other guy.

George carefully considered this. This kid was too long and heavy for him to move by himself, he'd need some help. Their third hand came in, studying the situation.

"Get a move on man, we're on a time schedule here." Carl scowled at George and then down again at the tall kid.

"You guys got the light ones...can't help it that you left me here with this one. He's heavy...and so long I can't get him lifted by myself." George kicked the kid in the ribs. Stupid kid. He glanced over at the other one. Nodded towards him. "What about him?"

"He's as good as dead anyway...leave him. Man...can you feel that?" Carl shivered and looked around, studying the room for a hidden enemy. George followed his gaze around the room, but didn't see anything. He felt it though.

Some kind of weird electricity or something was in the air. George suddenly felt panicked. They needed to get out of here. Something wasn't right.

"Help me with this one, will you?" Grasping the man's tied wrists, he waited for Carl to heft his feet up as well and they half dragged, half carried the guy out of there and to the waiting van.

George and Carl climbed in the back after rolling Sam the rest of the way in. They surveyed their haul, satisfied looks on both their faces. Larkin should be fairly well pleased.

The girl was tossed in the corner. They had carefully tied, blindfolded and gagged her.

He surveyed the other two bundled into the van. The little boy had been tied, his hands in front. And he was gagged. George saw that and was relieved...he still remembered the freaky shit the kid had pulled with that mouth of his. He frowned at the taller man, the one they had held with the boy before. He had blood dried down the side of his face and looked awfully pale.

He decided that one would be out for a while - they would restrain him better once they reached the house.

As the van roared to life, he felt the hair raise on the back of his neck. That same feeling from in the house came over him. Fleeting. Then it was gone. He shook his head. Nerves.

He settled against the side of the van, keeping steady watch over their prisoners. He actually felt somewhat sorry for them. Larkin had spoken briefly of his plans for them and it wasn't pretty.

* * *

_**Too many long minutes previously**_

_The energy surrounding them all was pained, sorrowful. _

_They watched, unable to interfere, as the humans they protected, they loved, were brought into this battle. The heavenly beings engaged in this tense waiting game realized somehow, God's plan would be realized. But at what cost? They lifted their heads and together, kneeled in prayer as one. _

_They had their orders. One by one they were drawn to the battle, when it was their time. _

_Not before: To the frustration of the guardians, not before._

_Now, one had his turn. The rest returned to prayer. _

_Already rushing to the protector's side, Reelaiah was there to cradle the slight girl in a protective hold as her body fell to the ground. Ignoring the dark spirits spinning about in a frenzy, he lowered his head to pray. He felt her unconscious nightmare and tightened his firm grasp. _

_Aware that he could not let his guard down, he gazed about fiercely at the dark spirits that milled about. In her unconscious state, the girl was so horribly vulnerable. He let his invisible hold loose and stood over the girl, drawing his sword and unfurling his wings fully. _

_As the spirits crushed ever closer, he started to grimly fight them all. He felt the pull to feathers, his wings as darkness tried to bring him down. He opened his wings further, tossing the black ones far. _

_His sword sliced through one after another of the evil creatures. _

_Still he held firm. _

_The woman's unconscious mind threw out a prayer, surprising Reelaiah. Drawing upon the Lord's name, her unspoken and instinctive prayer helped push the perimeter of the dark spirits out even further. He smiled a soft, proud smile for his charge. Even as her body shut down, her mind instinctively threw out protection. _

_Faith. _

_He turned once again to the battle raging around him. _

_Above him, his brothers were alternatively watching the battle and praying. _

_With the trained eyes of an angelic warrior, Mika'el observed. The evil in that room seemed to pulse, causing actual pain to the guardians. _

_The hunter was the center of attention now, and he radiated strength. The evil man pointed the gun and suddenly there was another ripple through their realm._

_The warrior watched, transfixed, as the human he had come to admire recognized the intent, reacting to the threat without a second thought for his own safety. He threw himself in front of the child, cradling him even as the shot was fired. _

"_It is time." _

_Mika'el stood fully, spreading his wings and lifting his arms high. In silent prayer, his face glowed with a heavenly energy that radiated. Sensing the moment his man was hit, Mika'el flinched, then rushed to the battle. Dark spirits spun wildly about, inching ever closer to the fragile soul, when the hunter fell._

_With a skill and fervor that signified his calling, Mika'el brandished his sword, cutting through the creatures that slithered in their realm towards the unconscious man. He was standing at attention when he felt the after-effect of a tremendous force. He looked down and his face softened as he saw the child, the innocent, deep in a simple prayer. _

_As always, his innocence, along with the ancient words, worked to repel the evil around them. He touched an invisible hand to the boy and then returned to attention, warily guarding the hunter._

_He realized the little one's simple mistake in the next moments. The innocent had not prayed for himself. He had prayed only for another. This made him the newest target. Mika'el watched, his wings folding in on themselves and opening again in agitation. The boy was being swarmed by the very creatures he protected the hunter from. _

_He was satisfied to see that the darkness hit a wall as the boy was protected even without the effects of a specific prayer. He had his faith. His gaze sharpened though. Warrior's instincts on full alert, he watched the scene unfold and his eyes narrowed. _

_Above him, another guardian readied himself for his turn at battle._

_Jalmari suddenly tensed further and rose to his full height as his charge was wounded. The thunderous expression on his face contrasted with the brilliance of his unfurled wings. He was by the boy's side instantly and kneeled over him. _

_He saw the boy's protection held even as he fell unconscious. But the evil beings were swarming, nudging, pecking away in an effort to damage his defenses. _

_With a mighty call of prayer, Jalmari rose and pulled his sword, his eyes flashing with fire as he faced the evil and started cutting through one being after another. His charge, this innocent, would NOT be harmed further._

_In the crackling heat of the battle below, the guardians pulsated with the raw power of heaven. Above them, their brothers continued in prayer. _

_So close. _

_It was almost time ..._

_Jacobus placed a hand on the shoulder of his closest brother, dropped his head, and prayed simply for strength. He was pulled from his prayer as his charge was hurt. He turned and rushed the battleground, closing in on the man. His eyes flashed dangerously and he drew himself tall and straight. He pulled his sword and, wings unfurled, turned slowly to face the ever-growing crowd of evil. _

_His ward – the younger hunter - drew evil normally. Unconscious, his pull was mesmerizing to the darkness. The angel readied himself, glancing down at this man that attracted evil but had not succumbed. Curious._

_His light drew them, but Jacubus stopped their ravenous assault, whirling in a circle as his sword sliced cleanly through the entire front line of advancing dark ones. In the next instant their reinforcements began to rush across the veil. Soon the room was teaming with heavenly beings, and the darkness remaining hovered only around the evil men as they completed their wicked work. _

_In one voice, the guardians cried out in prayer for the protection and strength these humans would need. As one, they knelt swiftly and prayed. Their words created a quivering light within the room. As the humans were moved, their guardians went with them._

_One remained. _

_Mika'el raised his head and silently prayed for wisdom. He didn't react as the balance of his brothers started to cross back over. Soon it was only him, and the one who lay still at his feet. _

_His prayers turned towards permission and he nodded as the decision was returned to him. He lowered his head and shimmered as he concentrated. Slowly, he curled in on himself, his wings receding into nothing and his brilliance fading. _

_When he again stood at his full height, it was with a rare solidity. He grimly knelt at the hunter's side and felt his neck for a pulse. His smile bore a hint of his angelic bearing as he felt the beat there. _

_With purpose, he stood and walked to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the house. _


	10. Ch 9 The Strong and the Weak

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 9 - "The Strong and the Weak"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter **heavy** religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** The Winchesters and their friends face ferocious attack.  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to **Look Into His Eyes**. Please read through my author's notes **Here** (from first chapter) and **Here** (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) Previous chapters are at my journal.

**Chapter 9** **_The Strong and the Weak_**

**Author's Notes 2:** **IMPORTANT! This chapter deals with sensitive subject matters and may not be suitable for all readers. ** **This includes a non-graphic depiction of rape and ****lots of**** religious elements. **

Dean came to awareness with a sense of confusion and near-panic.

_S__omething_ more realistic than a dream was happening here, his body wouldn't wake up, obey any of his commands. Panic built as he remembered the danger they had all been facing. He was shot . . .he remembered, and, damn, but that hurt . . .

He was still conscious then, but everything was a blur. Except Bobby, leaning over him, talking softly in his broken Bobby-words. And he distinctly remembered seeing a fierce angel dude, because that image couldn't be forgotten. _T__hat_, though, that had to be a mirage of some sort. Because really, seriously...an angel? No way.

He turned his thoughts to the here and now.

This wasn't an out of body experience, at least he was pretty sure it wasn't. There was a great expanse of nothingness all around him, and it was unnerving. Flashes of pain would come to him, reminding him of his broken body.

Great.

He was stuck in limbo land.

He rolled his eyes, pausing to look around when he felt a difference suddenly. He studied the nothing intently, now picking out a moving figure. It was coming towards him. And it reminded him of his imaginary angel guy. In fact - he squinted as the figure appeared closer - it _was_ the angel dude.

He didn't feel threatened, so he just waited for his dream dude (and _that _ just sounded bad, didn't it?) to come closer. Except, as the figure moved ever closer, Dean felt a prickle down his spine that told him this dream was _off _somehow.

"That is because this is no dream, hunter." Dean's mouth hung open as the...angel...spoke to him. The eyes were freaky, almost burning in their intensity, hawk-like in their study of him. Dean backed up a step.

"Then what is this?"

"This is the space between your dreams and death. An unconsciousness of sorts. Your body is close to death but your spirit still fights. It is an in-between place." The man (it looked like a dude) studied him with watchful eyes. Dean studied him right back, taken aback when he noticed the wings.

"Are those real?" He blurted it out without thinking. He knew he should be embarrassed, but waited for an answer anyway as the angel's face split into a huge grin.

The being unfurled the wings to their full width, perhaps eight feet worth of shimmering feathers and quivering muscles.

"Yes. They are very much real." The voice held a hint of amusement and Dean cocked his head at him.

"That is _so_ cool." He turned back to business when another phantom pain shot through him.

"The pain is necessary. The time is near."

"Near time for what?" Dean was suddenly defensive. He wasn't _about_ to die. His brother needed him. Annie and Bobby needed him.

"For you to return to your body." The angel cocked his head, eyes narrowed.

Dean crossed his arms.

"So, what are you here for? Is this all some great plan of God's – His will be done and all that crap? 'Cause I'm not buying it..." He wasn't sure what to make of all this cloak and dagger angelic bull . . . stuff. He raised an eyebrow. "Who are you? I mean, what do I call you?"

"My real name is unrecognizable to humans, but most refer to me as Michael, or Mika'el." His eyes twinkled again. "You may call me Mike if you wish."

"Mike...wait a minute...Michael...as in the archangel Michael?" Dean's eyes grew wide again.

"We don't use such titles, but I fight in my Lord's army." The angel watched Dean curiously.

"I know I'm not exactly a choir boy here." He waited a beat, and then grew concerned about his health again. "But I sorta wasn't looking for an escort to the pearly white gates..."

At that, Mika'el's face shifted to a grin.

"No, child..." Dean raised an eyebrow at the angel's endearment. "I am here to watch over you, as my brothers watch over the others. This evil you fight, his mind has twisted. He is more dangerous than ever."

Dean leaned forward, absorbing the information, knowing instinctively the angel was speaking of Larkin.

"But . . . why?"

"This one of which you speak ... being possessed twisted his natural wickedness. He desires more than before. Now he wishes to invite possession."

"But we've dealt with possessions before, that still doesn't explain why holy hitters are coming on the scene..." Dean ran a hand through his hair and then once again crossed his arms.

"The one, he desires the possession. But the one who would possess him, that one desires much more." Dean's eyes widened.

"You telling me Larkin's looking to be possessed? And if that happens, his new demon pal is gonna . . . what? Give us all a headache? Try to take over the world?" That just sounded like _so_ much fun. Dean shook his head.

"It is possible, and right now is not part of God's will."

"Right now?" Dean caught the insinuation.

"Free will ... hunter. In this realm, it comes down to free will. What man does, and what evil does, is rarely stopped completely by the Lord." At Dean's incredulous look, he continued. "Instead, he uses certain chosen ones in earth, and his own army, to ensure that whatever happens may be shaped into His always shifting plan."

"If he has the power to stop it, why doesn't he." Dean's question was angry, resentful almost. The angel sighed patiently, as though the question was asked of him often.

"His reasons are beyond the understanding of humans, even beyond my own understanding sometimes." The angel regarded him gravely, his eyes shimmering as though he were holding back tears. "Now, you have limited time, and there are things you must know..."

Dean tensed, face devoid of emotion, as he dropped his head, listening.

"You must remember what you have already learned and use it to find this evil. I know you protect your brother at all costs. But you must also protect the smallest one, he is the key. He must be guarded at all costs. His gifts are important to the battle..." Dean looked up.

"He's just a boy..." The angel nodded and leaned down slightly so his face was inches from Dean's.

"The Lord uses the smallest to bring down the mightiest, the weakest to bring down the strongest, and the strongest...sometimes...to protect them all." His eyes held no color...they just _were_. Dean blinked at the fire in their depths. "Do you understand?"

"Not really, but I imagine I will soon enough..." Dean trailed off at the sharp appraisal the angel gave him. The Being nodded.

"You must be diligent. Evil will try to strike hard and strike often." Mika'el straightened and his wings reflexively rippled. Dean gaped at the strength behind the movement. Catching himself, he closed his mouth. The angel laid a solid, comforting hand on his shoulder. The weight was welcome, the comfort undisguised. "But we will be with you all as well."

The hand pulled away and left Dean feeling almost cold in its absence. He thought, suddenly and with a great sense of panic, of his brother and the Carvers.

"I need to get back there! They could be...they are..I'm sure..they're already with Larkin's men! I need to get back in there...I need to be able to fight, come up with a plan...kick some aaa – er ...butt." The angel shook his head.

"This is not the right time. Your body must heal. But soon, no matter, you will wake. I promise, hunter." His gaze was sincere. Dean believed him, but he didn't like it. He belonged out _there_; he needed to be fighting right now. The angel again seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts. "Do not worry, hunter. I know well the impatience you feel to fight. But you must also know there is always a proper time for striking. Now is not that time. It is instead time to marshal your strength."

Dean nodded, preoccupied with the thought of battle. When he looked up to meet the angel's eyes again, he stepped back. The heavenly being had drawn up to his full height, his wings unfurled in full splendor. He glowed with power.

"It is time. You will return to your body now, child." Dean raised an eyebrow...this dude sure liked to drop the kiddie names. "I will be with you, even when you do not see me."

With his parting words, the angel disappeared and Dean blinked, still disbelieving.

Angels. Pretty soon someone would tell him vampires were real too. He smirked.

Soon he was fading from this in between place, and falling into nightmarish dreams.

_**Andy**_

He was awake when they brought in his roommate: Well, fellow prisoner.

Unsure how long he had even been here, Andy only knew he'd been awake a short while before hearing the door open and the sounds of someone being dragged in. Several long minutes later, their captors left the room and he concentrated on the person across the room from him.

Blindfolded as he was, that was difficult.

He roughly scraped the side of his face against his shoulder and felt the blindfold move marginally. He kept at it, and though the side of his face felt like it now had a rug burn, his eyes were clear. It took a moment to adjust to the darkness in the room. When he did, he studied the form across the room. Slumped over as it was, it was difficult to tell who it was, although he felt something familiar about the mop of brown hair that fell in disarray across the forehead.

Sam?

He squinted into the darkness. It looked like it might be Sam. But he was so still. And pale. What was wrong with him? His eyes widened when it hit him suddenly. The dark trail down the side of the man's face told him.

Sam had been knocked unconscious.

Andy tried to remember, finding himself more worried when he realized that the blood covered the same side that had already been wounded. He found himself shaking for the young man when he remembered the seizures that previous injury had caused. This could be bad. Very bad.

_Pray_.

He smiled grimly, as if he needed an inner voice guiding _that_ need right now. He felt almost desperate to pray. But first, this horrible gag. He went to work on the gag but the stupid thing didn't budge. They had tied the thing so tight his mouth was numb from the pressure.

He rotated his jaw, trying to stretch the fabric of the gag first. He felt small satisfaction in the slight give of the material. Realizing that this would take a while, he drew in a deep breath and slumped his shoulders.

The movement dropped his arms and his hands rested on the floor awkwardly behind him. He purposely tried to not to think too much about how tightly his wrists were tied, and how securely.

When he had first come to, he had tried loosening the ropes binding his wrists first. He had given up in frustration after no success; the ropes were too tight and attached to the wall somehow, effectively holding him in one spot.

He turned his gaze upwards and closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him.

_Lord, this is quite the pickle, huh?__ I'm __scared and I feel helpless here__. I'm worried about the others, Lord. __Especially Sam over there.__God__, he's so helpless and he's hurt __real__ badly. Please protect him from his body's __condition .__Oh__...man...God..._here he drew in a shuddering breath...

_Help him, Lord. Please. I don't know where Bobby, __Annie__ and Dean are, but wherever they are please keep them safe Lord. At least guard their souls in this evil place. __And__ I sure wouldn't mind it if you would help me with these ropes...let me get over to Sam. Thank you for protecting us Lord, and I just beg you Lord...help us make it out of here. _

With a sigh, he ended his informal prayer. He smiled when his wrists felt a small bit of relief. It might have just been him, but he liked to think God had listened to his selfish request.

He started working anew at his gag. He needed to try to get Sam to wake up; and he needed to be able to call for help if he started seizing.

He just hoped their captors would care.

_**Bobby**_

This was a bad place.

It felt all wrong.

He was scared. But he told Dean he would be brave. He squared his shoulders, and tried to stop the shaking. The rocking was okay. Rocking made everything better.

His mouth hurt, from that big thing in it. And whatever covered his eyes needed to come off, it made everything so dark. And scary. But what he really didn't like was the ropes on his hands. They hurt.

He pulled his hands up to his face and tried again to pull the thing out of his mouth, but it would not move. His mouth hurt. His eyes felt wet and he blinked against the thing over his eyes.

_God, help me, please?_

He sniffed and rocked more. His head hurt.

He moaned, then thought a minute and pulled his hands up to tug at what was on his eyes. It moved! He yanked it off and threw it.

It was dark here.

He blinked. Looked around.

This place was small. It looked like his closet at home. But _this_ closet was empty. He looked at the rope on his hands. He wished it would just go away. It hurt. He looked again; there was another rope attaching his hands the wall. He yanked on it.

He had stopped rocking, but started again after looking around. He felt his eyes get wet again. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder to rub the wet away. He leaned his head down and sobbed. He was scared. Annie wasn't here. And Sam and Dean weren't either.

And...he was scared.

He wanted to be brave, but he was scared.

He rocked, and shook, and cried.

_God.__ I'm scared. Help me. Please. Help me! I don't __wa__n__n__a__ be here. I __wa__n__n__a__ to go home_.

He felt something different now and looked up.

He smiled through the wet in his eyes and leaned forward.

His special friend was here.

_**Jalmari**_

Jalmari felt tears fall from his own eyes as his charge sobbed quietly below him. Leaning his head towards heaven, he prayed for his ward. He nodded as he received the answer.

He smiled gently at the boy as he stood in front of him. And he praised God for the trusting look the child gave him when he realized he was here.

"Why are you crying, little one?" He dropped to sit beside the child and leaned forward.

"Sca'd." The boy sniffled and tried to talk around the cloth in his mouth. Jalmari grimaced. He pulled the cloth gently from his charge's mouth. The little one held his wrists up and showed him the ropes there. "Han's hur'."

The angel looked heavenward. Sadly he gazed back at the boy.

"Child, I cannot remove them." The boy's face fell, and Jalmari touched the little wrists. He concentrated and felt the ropes loosen slightly. "Does that feel better, little one?"

Bobby nodded at him, eyes wide and tears still running down his face.

Jalmari watched the boy and sighed, his wings moving with the movement. He opened his arms wide to the child and smiled as the boy climbed on his lap without thinking, still trembling.

This was so very hard for his charge. Jalmari closed his eyes and prayed. Bobby settled into the angelic chest and sighed. Still trembling and rocking gently, the little child struggled to understand.

"Thi' rea'?" _Is this real?_ The boy sounded unsure and Jalmari understood.

"Yes, little one."

"Why?" The boy pushed away from the angel's chest and turned his face to look up briefly at the Being. The angel understood the real question. _Why __was this happening...why__ was the angel here with him now..._

"Remember what we spoke of before? The evil in this world...it seeks to hurt you because you are special, you are chosen, child." Bobby nodded seriously, remembering the conversation from before. "Do you remember what else I said before, Bobby?"

"Bad guys or bad thingsGod always there? And angels too, and Jalmari?" Bobby repeated the words from their conversation before and Jalmari tightened his hold on the boy. .

"You are correct, little one. You are always protected." His eyes flashed. "No matter what happens, remember that you are always close to God. Close to Heaven itself, little one."

It was an echo of his earlier words, and the angel fiercely prayed the Lord would further bless this little one and protect him from the evil to come.

"Child, I might not be able to be here," he pointed to the closet, "with you for long, but remember I will still be with you." The boy had relaxed sleepily back into the angel's chest, comforted by his strength. "I will stay with you until this is over. Even if you cannot see me."

Bobby nodded sleepily into Jalmari's chest, using his bound hands to pillow his cheek. The angel leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Remember your special words, little one. Say them often, even when Jalmari is not in here with you. They will protect you." The being lifted his eyes heavenward and sighed with divine frustration. He wished to do more, but he had his orders. So instead, he softly started reciting scripture to the boy, knowing the words would echo in his mind even in sleep. " Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path..."

_**Annie**_

When Annie awoke, it was with a headache and panic like she had never felt before. Her heart raced as her predicament hit her fully.

The last thing she remembered was trying to help Sam with the big goon by jumping on his back. Perhaps not her brightest moment, but she was trying to help.

Her body protested its confinement and she returned to the present with a whimper deep within her throat. Her eyes were covered. She had to concentrate on breathing, as something filled her mouth so completely her jaw hurt from the intrusion.

The ropes bound her so tightly, she was lucky to move more than her head: On something soft, a bed maybe. She shuddered at the thought. Her wrists and ankles were tied to opposite corners of the soft surface and she could already feel the fatigue of her muscles. Frustrated, she felt tears leak from her eyes, wetting the blindfold.

Suddenly, she felt a presence near her. She couldn't see them, didn't hear them move closer to her, and couldn't scream nearly satisfyingly enough when she felt the cold metal against her skin. The...presence...was a person. And she didn't think they were here to rescue her.

He watched from a chair in the corner of the room.

His eyes took in the woman that was now his, and they gleamed. In the past days he had waited for this moment.

Prepared.

Practiced.

He hadn't decided what her fate would be yet.

For now, he was content to just watch her.

He studied her carefully, taking in the smooth skin of her cheek. The gag was a necessity. He would love to hear her screams, but he didn't want her alerting his other house guests. He planned for her to scream . . . a lot.

His eyes narrowed as he caught the scent of awareness from her. He saw the tension in her arms and legs as she struggled. He caught the whimper from deep within her throat. He could almost smell the fear.

He stepped forward with anticipation, drawing his favorite switchblade.

It was time to play.

Annie struggled to calm her frantic body. The tension in her arms and legs was really hurting, especially now that someone was leaning on the bed. Now they were leaning on her and that knife was back.

She was a little ashamed of herself for screaming when they had held the knife to her throat before. She didn't want to show them that fear. She wanted to stay strong and figure a way out of this. She suddenly stilled completely, her thoughts coming to a dead stop.

The knife was trailing down her throat and it was going...where...no! Under the blindfold she squeezed her eyes shut as the knife slowly sliced through her shirt and bra. She couldn't help the tears that wet the blindfold. She wouldn't make any sound, she wouldn't give that satisfaction. But she couldn't help the tears.

_Oh God!__ I'm so scared here. Lord, please, please...please __don't__ let this be what I think it is...Lord, God. No, please. I'm __**not**__ that strong. Please God. _

Her panic usually turned to prayers, and this time was no exception. Except she didn't think she had ever felt such fear and repulsion, and, oh..no! The knife was sawing through her jeans, up one leg. And a minute later, down the other.

The knife was gone, and so were all of her clothes. Now she was cold. And terrified. She backed away into her mind to try and get away from her hell.

Despite the promise to herself, she couldn't help the scream when she felt the knife again, this time slicing her skin. She felt the sting of a small wound left behind. Barely having time to process what was happening, the knife came down again. Another small wound. And another. They moved, applying a little more pressure sometimes, others almost tickling rather than cutting.

She didn't know how long they did this little game of theirs.

It felt like her entire body was a mass of cuts, some deep, some barely welts. She could feel the heaviness of blood congealing all over her body. Her arms and legs trembled, beyond the ability to cope with the constant strain of their restraints.

She was unable to cry any more, and unwilling to scream, or whimper. She prayed silently and tried, desperately, not to think about what they were doing to her body. When the presence left suddenly, she dared not relax.

But finally, with utter exhaustion, she relaxed into her bonds and tried to ignore the shooting pains through her limbs. Her entire body felt like it was bruised and bloody.

_Oh, dear Lord, give me strength. I don't know this is...and God__I don't know if I can do this. I am not strong enough...please Lord...give me strength. Don't let me show them weakness. Please Lord..._

She would have continued her prayer but she felt a jarring sensation on the bed. The tears she thought had run dry started again. _Not now, not this.__God NO!__ Please!_ Her screams to God were not to be answered as the body settled on top of her, roughly pushing her against her restraints and ...oh God...she couldn't...she wouldn't...She shook her head, uncaring if they thought it weakness.

She finally forced herself through a door in her mind, and behind that door she ignored what was happening with her body. She ignored the pain. She ignored the soul-wrenching hurt this act inflicted on her. She refused to feel this. She pushed the emotions, shoving until she couldn't push against them any further. In her mind, she rocked just like her brother often did, trying to soothe what could not be soothed.

_Oh God, why?__ How do I do this...Lord?_ She screamed within her mind, long and loudly. _God, help me, please. I don't know what to do from here. I can't get out of this by myself. __And__ I am so scared. I can't...I don't know what to do with this, Lord. It hurts so __bad__! I feel like my soul is dying here Lord. How do I fight __this.__Please lord__help me__. Please?_

Finally, gratefully, she succumbed to the darkness of unconsciousness.

Reelaiah paced beneath the veil, his wings quivering in agitation. What his charge was enduring was something that should not be happening. He fisted his generous hands and turned his gaze heavenward.

Gauging the direction of Annie's heartrending prayers, the angel stood to full attention, wings unfurled in shimmering, quivering brilliance. He raised arms to the heavens and let tears fall freely from his face. His expression was one of deep sorrow. He wept for his charge.

_Dear Lord, it is time to minister to the little one. I ask for __You__ to help strengthen __her__. Help renew in her a purpose, despite the pain of her body and mind. Give me the words, Lord. _

Here he nodded grimly, and allowed the wisdom of his Father above to take root.

It was time.

He trembled in trepidation as he felt the change in his charge's countenance. She was now deep within her mind, and her body had fallen into deep unconsciousness. He concentrated, and soon was looking into Annie's safe room within her mind.

He studied his charge as she rocked, the soothing motion doing nothing to truly calm her battered soul. She sensed him before he said anything and looked up sharply. He gentled his angered spirit and moved to stand in front of her.

"You're not real. Just teasing me by being here." She glared at him, speaking through clenched teeth. "Go away."

She squeezed her eyes shut and Reelaiah mourned for her lost spirit.

"Child, I am very much real. This I promise you." The softly spoken words stilled her rocking and she looked up at him, still unsure. He crouched in front of her and gazed into her eyes and she gasped at the truth revealed there.

"Why?" The broken word hit the angel and he looked heavenward for strength before attempting to answer. He settled to the ground at her feet.

"The evil in this world cannot be explained, child. And it seldom strikes fairly, justly. In this, be comforted: what evil means for the darkness, and to hurt you, the Lord will mean for good, and to help many."

Annie watched him, tears still cascading down her cheeks.

She looked at the angel and the expression of hurt and confusion wounded the angel.

"What good can come of this? This...what happened to me...what good can possibly come of that?" She looked back down at her knees. Her continued trembling broke the angel's heart and he again looked heavenward with a heavy heart. She didn't wait for an answer. "How can I possibly help many like this? He has me tied up like an animal. I can't see out there. I can't talk. I'm helpless!"

"I cannot attempt to explain the reasoning behind what the evil one does. But child, know this. You are not weak. You are a child of God. His strength is yours, always." She looked at him, so hurt. This human seemed so small, and fragile. "In your weakness, use God, child. And remember His words."

She blinked.

Looking at him, she slowly drew a breath in. And then she closed her eyes, tears still leaking through her lashes.

"Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."

But her voice broke as she recited the verse and she shook her head and sobbed.

"But this?"

The heavenly being regarded her gravely before speaking.

"Child, this evil...the one hurting you...he plans much more than to hurt you and the others. The power he craves comes from pure darkness. He would seek out possession. But the one who possesses him will want much more." His eyes flashed.

"But, we took care of the possession before. Couldn't we just do it again?" She gazed up at him.

" This evil is different, with different plans, than the one you exorcized before. Once controlling a body, the evil inside would have access to you, and Bobby, and Sam. Your gifts would entice him, tempt him to do so much more. You would all be pawns in his attempt to open the veil between the evil spirits and this realm." Annie's gasp lifted his eyes to study her.

"But what do we have to do with it. I can't do anything with the..abilities...or gifts...or whatever they are. I can't control them. I don't think Sam can either. And what do you mean about Bobby? He's just a boy." Her voice held a small spark of frustration.

"There is much you cannot understand, little one. But know this, your powers and the other one's powers, they are parts of the whole. Your brother has a gift and his is the key. None can be effective without the other."

Annie nodded. The angel saw the direction of her memories. It had taken many to dispel the demon within the evil one the first time. He nodded, pleased to see her understanding.

"Now, know this, child. And remember it: The Lord uses the smallest to bring down the mightiest, the weakest to bring down the strongest, and the strongest...sometimes...to protect them all."

She looked at him, her soft brown eyes widening.

"But I'm still stuck there. . ." She broke off, her teeth biting her lower lip. " I can't do anything while I'm there. Like that. And he's...hurting me back there."

The angel nodded gravely.

"God is faithful, little one. He will not let you be hurt beyond what you can bear. His Word promises, remember?" The angel leaned in until his face was mere inches from hers and placed a gentle hand on hers. "He will provide a way out, somehow. You must be patient. And watchful for the opportunity. Do you understand, little one?"

Annie nodded somewhat uncertainly.

"Your testing is not over, child. The evil one will attempt to break your will, your spirit. He would even seek to crush your faith. You cannot allow this. Stay strong in the Word, and steadfast in your faith, little one. You will have a chance to fight, be ready for it." He nodded seriously at her before standing to his full height. She watched as his wings opened to their full width, her eyes wide. He smiled gently at her. Sadly.

"Remember all I have said, little one...remember..." As he started to shimmer away from her thoughts, he spoke more. "Be strong, I will be with you, even when you cannot see me. You are protected..."

His words were a soft whisper as he faded from her view.

Annie looked around, sighed, and bent her head back down.

While she could, she would pray, and remember the angel's words.

But she wasn't sure about being a part of this whole thing. She felt anything but strong right now. In fact, the thought of returning to consciousness scared her silly. She understood that this wasn't just a matter of keeping the faith, but of clinging to it, of hoping. And the angel had said to be ready for a chance to fight. She could do that … she could hang on until she could fight. Maybe she could make a difference, at least save Bobby.

She took a deep breath.

And started to pray.


	11. Ch 10 Unraveling Again

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 10 - "Unraveling Again"  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** P-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** Sam and Bobby deal with Larkin.  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to **Look Into His Eyes**. Please read through my author's notes Here (from first chapter) and Here (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) if you need more information, explanations, etc.

* * *

_**Chapter**__** 10**__** - Unraveling Again  
**_

Andy steadily worked on his gag, trying desperately to get the stupid thing out of his mouth. He'd rubbed his cheek raw trying to dislodge the cloth. When that didn't work, he used his tongue and tried to push the offensive bunch of fabric out of his mouth. And now, since that hadn't worked either, he was alternatively flexing his neck and tucking his chin to his chest in an effort to move the cloth down a little and maybe loosen it enough to move it.

Success!

He felt the small movement as the material slipped and mentally thanked God. Quickly twisting and turning his head, he was finally able to dislodge the gag fully, taking huge gulps of air afterwards.

His relief was short lived when he noticed his new roommate out of the corner of his eye. Sam! He was shaking, and one of his arms and legs was jerking. Oh no... Andy quickly realized what was happening and lifted his eyes towards heaven. _Come on God; cut the kid a break, please?_

He frantically worked the ropes around his wrists, but that was useless. The ropes weren't shifting, and he was too weak to do anything even if he were freed. Instead, he did the only other thing he could do. He screamed bloody murder for whoever was out there to get in and help Sam.

_God, please._

"Please! Someone! You have to help him! He's having a seizure! Someone, anyone! Please!" Please! He was about to start yelling again when one of his abductors came into the room and swiftly walked over to Sam.

"Please, look...he had a head injury from before and it's made him have seizures...it looks like he got hit in the head again...and he's having another seizure...they almost couldn't stop it last time." Andy was really hoping this guy cared, as he rattled off as much information as he could think of on short notice. The man spared him a glance and frowned before leaving the room.

He stared after the man.

_Dear Lord, please watch over Sam and help this seizure to stop on its own. Please keep him safe Lord. Please? Oh Lord, watch over us all, in His name, Amen._

His eyes opened again as the first man and another came back into the room. They cut the rope securing Sam to the wall, carrying his still shaking dead weight between the two of them and out the door.

"Please. Don't hurt him anymore. He could die if he gets any worse..." Andy would have added more, but he was surprised by the swift arrival of man number three. The man squatted in front of him, slapping him across the face. His head flew to the right and he stilled, trying to catch his breath.

"Don't think telling us about the kid will stop what's coming. Eventually, Larkin's gonna kill you all anyway. What's it matter if the kid goes now or later?" The holy man glared at him, earning another vicious slap.

His gag was roughly reapplied. This time, instead of a blindfold, the man whipped a dark cloth sack from his pocket and slipped it over Andy's head.

He heard his captor stand, but he didn't see the boot before it slammed into his head and again sending him into darkness. The sound of footsteps echoed off the walls in the now silent room until the door shut, the room again cut off from the rest of the world.

* * *

"Larkin's gonna be pissed. He wants him in one piece until he's ready to deal with him himself. What are we supposed to do with him?" George was studying the lanky boy, who had finally stopped shaking and jerking. He was breathing kind of heavy. "Maybe we should get this out until he's breathing better...can't do much yelling in the shape he's in anyway..."

He reached for the thick gag in the boy's mouth and pulled at it, annoyed when it didn't move. He flipped open his switchblade and cut through it. His lips were tinged blue. Great, just great. Larkin would kill them.

He lightly smacked the kid's cheek and looked up at Carl, who looked uninterested in the boy's plight.

"He's just gonna die later anyway, who cares if he goes out now?" Carl shrugged his shoulders and shifted his feet.

"Larkin'll care, 'cause he wants to be the one to do it. And he's the one paying us the big bucks, remember?" George's reminder of their impending payday caused Carl's empathetic instincts to surface.

"Fine. We'll take him to the cot in the other room. We can tie him to it and wait for him to come around, deal from there." They moved to pick up the lanky boy once again, grunting under the dead weight. Once in the other room, they sliced through the bonds around his wrists and re-tied them to the side of the cot.

They both looked uneasily at the man. Larkin had left after his visit with the girl upstairs earlier. Said he was going out to the barn to check on things. There were too many of these guys to watch in this house; Too many things that could go wrong. A little kid, the girl, this one, the pastor. And there was one other, 'though she barely counted. That one was barely alive at this point.

Just then, the front door opened and George quickly exited the room, closing the door behind him. They watched warily until they saw Larkin storm around the corner.

"What are you two doing?" His face was impassive but his eyes were cold as ice. George swallowed hard. This was his meal ticket - he didn't want to make him mad, or end up dead.

"The younger man was having a seizure. We just thought we'd move him into the other room until he settled down..." He paused and decided not to mention anything about the pastor.

"Fine, you secured him though?" The men both nodded quickly. "As long as he doesn't die, I don't care how well he's doing."

Larkin moved towards the room they had indicated, then stopped and turned to face the men.

"Check on our other guests and make sure they're taken care of. I want to talk with our buddy here."

George shook his head and walked slowly toward the kitchen. This job was getting way too complicated. Larkin had promised them a huge payday for helping him with his plans, but George just didn't know if he could make it to the payday. He shrugged unhappily. It was one thing to kill someone for revenge; it was another to find new ways to torture them before killing them.

He didn't even want to consider the freaky shit the man was putting together out in the barn. Sacrifice alters and satanic crap of some kind.

The guy was a nut.

But he was the one paying.

George trudged up the stairs to check on the little boy.

* * *

Sam awoke feeling as if he were climbing out of the deep end of the pool.

He opened his eyes with reluctance and great difficulty. So confusing ... He couldn't move!

He vaguely interpreted the shape next to the bed as a body, a man, maybe someone who could help him.

"Help. Me. Please...somethin's wrong 'ith me..." Why was it so hard to talk? His words slurred and he worked, concentrated, to speak at all.

Something niggled at the back of his mind and slipped away again. He tried to focus on the shape, sudden fear making him more hesitant. He felt … so scared now. It was as if he was a kid all over again, but he wasn't a kid. Right?

Man, everything was so confusing.

The man stepped closer and Sam looked at his blurred features before he was able to focus. When he finally was able to make out the man's features, his eyes widened and it suddenly hit him why he was so scared, and why something was horribly wrong.

"Dean! Where's Dean? Where's my brother?" He was able to say those very important words without slurring. But he was too desperate to know the answer to really care.

But the man stared at him, and Sam's vision shifted as tears filled his eyes. Just tell me already! The sneer on the man's face was all his could make out of his features as Sam's vision wavered. He closed his eyes, and then reopened them. And blinked.

There were two men beside him now. But one...was...glowing? He shook his head slightly, wincing at the pain. Looked closer. Still two guys, Larkin and... something...else. Was he dying? 'Cause that looked like an angel.

"Your brother is dead, Sammy boy." Larkin leaned closer with a twisted smile on his face. "But don't worry, you'll join him soon enough."

Sam felt himself slipping from the edge of sanity. Dean wasn't, he couldn't be dead. He shook his head at the man. "No, you're wrong...Dean isn't dead. He'll be here soon ...and when he does, he'll kick your ass!"

"Sorry there, Sammy boy, but your older brother is gone. And you won't be long to join him." The cold man was now just inches from Sam's face and he twisted away, clenching his eyes shut. Dean was NOT dead. Sam would not accept that.

He couldn't.

And yet, the little boy inside him quivered in fear and screamed in frustration. He hated feeling so helpless. The pounding in his mind took over, and emotions ruled, overriding the controls he normally held in place.

Tears streamed down his face. Sam couldn't control the shaking as his body started to jerk violently. He lost the ability to reason and soon, he was slipping away and into nothingness.

Larkin swore.

Stupid kid. That must have been one of those seizures. He guessed he should care a little, but the man would be dead soon anyway. And while it didn't look pretty, his restraints were keeping him from hurting himself. He would live, for now.

But he still wanted to have some fun with the guy, and he needed to know a little information too. He smiled and left the room, plans already weaving through his mind.

This time when he woke, it was with a rush. He was wet, and cold. He looked up, through wet eyelashes, to see Larkin standing there with a dripping pail and a sneer on his face.

"Wake up, boy. I've got some questions." The man's pale blue eyes were almost mesmerizing as they coldly watched him, studied him. Sam shook, and glared at the man from his nightmares.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Larkin held a knife up. Sam looked away. He was not a little boy. He was not a little boy. He was not...hell, who was he kidding? He couldn't control his emotions and he was as scared as any other little boy might be, given the circumstances. Crazy man with a knife, check; tied up idiot, check.

Larkin roughly grabbed his chin, pulling his face around to meet his eyes.

"What did the demon want with you? Before...he wanted you, but said it wasn't your time. Why?" Sam just looked at him, confused. He whimpered as he felt pain slicing through his stomach. The knife.

"I don't know." He said it through gritted teeth. The fact that it was the truth was almost as frustrating to him as the fact that this idiot seemed to care. Another slice, this time along his arm. Now he understood why he felt so much colder. His shirt was gone.

"I thought you might have trouble answering. And since you are such a nice guy..." He stressed the word nice like it was a four-letter word of another variety. And Sam did not like how smug the man looked. "I decided to bring along some insurance."

Sam's eyes widened and he blinked away the stinging in his eyes.

Larkin was pulling along a mutinous Bobby on a rope, like he was some kind of animal. Sam's eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath before studying Bobby. He looked angry but otherwise...okay. He sighed in relief.

Bobby's hands were tied in front of him and a rope was attached, which Larkin now held. The blue-eyed man smirked at Sam.

"So...you want to talk now, Sammy? I think..." His little speech was cut off by a now raging little Bobby: A raging little boy who had stomped on one foot and charged full on into Larkin's other knee. Sam bit back a chuckle. That was Bobby...he narrowed his eyes as he remembered that even furious, Bobby wasn't as dangerous to Larkin as Larkin was to him.

"Bobby, hey, Bobby! Be careful...kiddo..." Sam was trying to get the small child's attention with no success. Bobby's next words caused his eyes to go wide open again. And, if he wasn't mistaken, Larkin looked awfully surprised as well.

"You mea' man! Na' Sa' NO Sam-mie! You be NI'!" (You mean man! Name Sam NOT Sammy! You be NICE!) Larkin blinked. Sam thought for a minute Bobby might get away with charging the man and yelling at him. Instead he was horrified to see Larkin raise a hand and backhand Bobby across the room. His small body stopped in motion and dropped when he reached the end of the tether Larkin was now holding with malicious intent.

Larkin jerked on the rope, dragging a softly crying Bobby across the floor.

"Mea' man...ba' guy...ba' man..." Bobby's soft-spoken mantra repeated repeatedly until Larkin smacked the wide-eyed boy again. A small trickle of blood ran from the corner of the child's mouth and Bobby was silent as tears fell. He rocked slightly, drawing his knees to his chest.

'Why...I don't think he likes me, Sammy." He stressed the name, but Bobby was rocking in his own little world, oblivious now to the conversation.

Sam had tensed and tried unsuccessfully to jerk upright when he heard the smack of Larkin's hand against Bobby's cheek. God!

"I don't know why the Demon wanted me...I never have known..." He was angry and tense and felt a horrible pounding in his head. "Leave him alone...he's just a little boy!"

"I think you're lying." It was a simple statement, said as Larkin pulled Bobby by the rope another couple feet across the room. He leaned over to rummage in a small box that lay there. "And I can't help but wonder if you'd be more willing to tell me the truth if your little friend here is involved."

"I swear...please...I don't know anything about the ...NO!" As he was trying to reiterate his ignorance he saw the tall man pull a knife from the box on the floor. Larkin's blue eyes pierced Sam's fleetingly as he pulled Bobby closer to him.

The still terrified boy rocked, unknowing, or maybe uncaring, of the danger beside him.

Larkin shoved the boy backwards until he sprawled on the floor. His deep brown eyes looked soulfully over Larkin's shoulder as he lay there, still trembling.

"Hep'. Peas'. Hep'." A soft, heartbreaking whisper fell from the boy's lips. Sam realized that though he was terrified, Bobby was praying in single words. _Help. Please. __Hey__ there God...I'll add to that. Help. Please? Help Bobby!_

The next moment moved slowly, each moment etched in Sam's eyes where he was forced to watch from his restraints.

Larkin used one hand to wind Bobby's rope tether around his hand. He pulled sharply against the restraint, easily jerking Bobby's small arms up and out of his way.

_NOOOO!_

The expression on the man's face was a mixture of concentration and malice as he grinned down at the child trapped below.

"We'll see if this convinces you to talk, Sammy-boy." He met Larkin's icy eyes and swallowed against the pure helplessness of his situation. He felt terror starting to wind in and around his mind again and forcibly pushed it into a corner in his mind. He glared.

"Please...he doesn't deserve this. Please...I really don't know anything else. Larkin...please." He was begging and didn't care...but the man seemed to listen for a moment and he'd beg if there was the slightest chance Larkin could pull back from hurting Bobby.

It was a fleeting reprieve.

Slow motion resumed. The pounding in Sam's head was overwhelming in its intensity. Bobby's wide brown eyes and whispered pleas still sounded in the background of the room. Larkin's blue eyes shifted down to his small prize. He grinned, leaned down and whispered something in Bobby's ear.

Whatever it was didn't faze Bobby, who blinked and met Larkin's gleeful gaze before looking at Sam and meeting his eyes. Sam could lose himself in those sad little eyes. He could, if it weren't for the danger the little boy was in.

He saw the knife as it flashed in defiance of the role it was forced to play. Saw it move forward and tried not to sigh in relief that the first pass only cut Bobby's shirt open. Larkin raised his knife again, the expression on his face making Sam want to throw up. He was enjoying this! That sick brd was enjoying hurting a little boy. An innocent. _God, please! __NOOOO!_

The slow motion stopped and Sam tried to understand the chaos that followed.

The pounding in his head intensified and suddenly, in concert with his silent screams, Sam felt a silent force build deep within him. Without blinking, he looked at Larkin and the knife he held. Blinding energy passed through him and he groaned from the pain of it. But still, he watched.

This was a sick show, but he couldn't stop watching.

Larkin soared backwards forcefully, almost flying at least three feet back. At first the tether wrapped around his hand meant that he drug Bobby with him. But as his head connected with the solid floor his grip on the rope relaxed.

Larkin's eyes closed as he lost consciousness. Bobby's still form was connected by the now tenuous hold the man had on Bobby's leash. Sam's eyes narrowed as he assessed Bobby. Then his gaze widened as his vision swum and he struggled to make sense of the impossible in front of him.

For there, beside Bobby on the floor, was a bright being that could only be a...no, it couldn't be...an angel. The man (The bare chest and chiseled features kind of gave it away) turned his head and his eyes burned Sam's for just a moment in their intensity.

Was that thing crying? Yes. It was crying softly and touching Bobby's head with a whisper soft caress. Just as quickly as the figure garnered his attention it was gone. Sam blinked. A concussion. He must have a concussion. That, along with being a freak of nature. That was it.

He decided this wasn't the time to ponder his sanity. He needed Bobby and they needed to get out of here.

"Bobby...Bobby! Hey kiddo...Bobby?" he noticed a fine tremor pass through the boy, and then the small figure rolled to face him. Big brown eyes blinked heavily up at Sam and a small smile played around his lips.

"Sam-mie o-k?" Bobby pushed up slowly to sit. Then he peered at Sam and studied the rope around Sam's wrist. He frowned, pursing his little lips. "Ro' hur'? Bobby hep." (Rope hurt? Bobby help.)

The boy looked around. Sam was a little surprised the little man wasn't worried about his own wrists, 'cause that rope did not look comfortable. But he sure couldn't do anything about Bobby's bound hands until he was loose. Sam frowned, the remnants of his psychic punch still plaguing him.

He looked down at Larkin, thinking. He had no clue how many other men might be here, wherever "here" was. He only knew one thing.

They needed to hurry.

He felt those fingers of panic starting to swirl around his head again and pushed them back down. Damn head injuries...he didn't have time for this.

He watched Bobby stumble to his feet. His bare feet. Sam grimaced.

"Ooohhhh..." The little guy had found Larkin's stash of whatever was in the box on the floor. Reaching in, the boy plucked something between his bound hands and grinned. "Cu' ro'!" (Cut rope)

He turned around and showed Sam his prize, a small dagger with a serrated edge. Sam nodded and Bobby walked the few steps toward the cot haltingly. He wondered if the boy had hit his head too hard; his eyes were slightly glazed and he started to sway.

"Come on Bobby, get that here and then sit down kiddo. You don't look so hot." Sam was eyeing him with apprehension. Not to push the boy or anything, but he needed that knife if they were to have any chance at all of walking out of here.

Bobby made it to the side of the cot, dropping the knife carefully beside Sam's tightly bound hand. Then he slid bonelessly down to hit the floor with a soft thud. Sam winced. Man, couldn't the kid catch a break?

_Ok, God. A little luck would be great right about now..._

"Luck does nothing, child. But faith...faith is a strong weapon." Sam dropped the knife he had just managed to grasp and looked up. To say he was surprised by the angel standing in front of him was an understatement. "The little one there, he has enough for both of you."

The being drew himself up to his full height, surveying Sam and then looking gently down to the small form on the floor. He nodded, then lifted his head high to the sky and whispered with a serene expression on his face.

His wings - _his wings?_ - were rustling behind him, opening and closing in small bursts of agitation. This wasn't the same Being he had dreamed up before, and Sam wondered just how hard a hit his head had taken.

The being glanced down at Sam sharply.

"I am real, child. Now is not the time to ponder this. You have limited time, and the little one here requires assistance." The huge being reached one large hand down to encompass Sam's fisted one at the side of the bed. As he held it the ropes there loosened and then fell off. Sam looked at the ropes and then back up at the ...angel...it was an angel, had to be.

"Why are you helping me...us?" That said as he grasped the knife in his now free hand and went to work on freeing his other wrist.

"What is happening here...this evil...will only lead to something much worse, much more evil. That is not part of God's plan." Sam stared at the heavenly being in confusion. Suddenly seeing black spots in front of his eyes, he limply fell back to the bed.

He felt a cool, large hand on his forehead and blinked, trying to focus his rebellious eyes.

"You are hurt badly, child. Here..." The being placed both of his hands now on Sam's head and he felt cooling pressure move through his head. The hands left, and Sam opened his eyes. "This will help. But you will still need attention."

Sam nodded. His stupid head injury kept getting in the way.

Crap.

Angels. What else? Soon someone would tell him vampires were real. Sure.

The angel's eyebrow raised and a smirk appeared fleetingly on his face.

"You still doubt I am real?" He unfurled his wings and looked upwards, a huge grin lighting his face as his eyes closed and mouth moved in a silent whisper. Sam stared. Those wings...were they real? No way... "They are very much real."

Sam blinked. Could that thing read his thoughts? He blinked up at the angel again and then a thought stopped him cold.

"Do you...I mean, can you tell me anything about..." He stumbled over the words, and frustrated, finally stared at the Angel.

The being considered him gravely and then nodded.

"Your brother is badly hurt. He will live. That is all I can tell you." The angel turned to consider the little one at his feet, affording Sam a moment of relief. And if those were tears running down his cheeks, he didn't care.

He believed the angel. Laughed inwardly. An angel. Man.

Hopefully this wasn't all a figment of his imagination. Otherwise, they were screwed and he was still stuck on that stupid cot...

He looked down at his now freed arms and thought a second. He pinched his arm and winced at the sharp pain. Okay. Real. Great. He moved to sit up, and gasped as the pain of his sliced chest hit him. Definitely real.

He reached over to work on his bound ankles. Where were his shoes? Man.

A few seconds was all it took to slice through the ropes holding his ankles and he swung his feet over the side of the cot and slid to the floor beside Bobby.

Ignoring the pain in his chest, he pulled the boy into his arms, rocking him gently in his arms. He looked up to consider the angel.

Angel. He shook his head...that was just too weird.

"You must take him and leave. The way is clear for now." The angel studied him and looked like he might say something else. But didn't. Sam studied him back.

"Why are you helping us? I've fought the bad guys a lot and never had any holy hitters come to help out...," he remembered the angel's earlier words. "And what do you mean? This will lead to something more evil..."

"I cannot grant all the answers you seek. Just know that you must hide. This battle cannot be lost. And the boy..." The angel stared with such emotion at Bobby that Sam's mouth went dry. He held the boy closer. "The boy is key...protect him well."

Sam nodded. He'd do anything for Bobby - no one - or thing - needed to tell him to.

Wait, the angel had said, "hide," not escape. He narrowed his gaze at the angel. Who looked at him in understanding. And nodded.

"There is no escape from here, child. Only a reprieve. But you must go, now. And hide. Hide well, and away from the house..." The angel nodded at Sam and his wings once again unfurled to their full expanse.

Then he was gone. Sam shook his head. They needed to get out of here.

He ignored the drum taking residence inside his temple, and the pain that ripped through his chest. He stumbled, but finally rose with Bobby pulled firmly into his arms. He paused before he turned towards the door. Set Bobby on the cot and eyed the box on the floor. His eyes flickered to the corner and he walked over to pick up the gray item there. His shirt, or what was left of it.

Crap. He used it to wipe away the vestiges of Larkin's wake-up call. As he ran it over his chest, reminded of his wound there. He winced.

He looked back towards the box and studied the contents. A gun. All kinds of knives. Some needles? Other items Sam really didn't want to consider uses for. He scooped up the gun and checked the chamber: Full. He shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. He carefully picked up several of the knives. The two-sheathed knives he placed in his other pocket.

He tested the weight of a larger knife in his hand and smiled grimly. It would do. He swiftly cut through Bobby's restraints, wincing at the raw skin left behind. Poor kid. He tore a small strip from his shirt and used it to tie the knife securely to his leg.

He then wrapped the other knives carefully in the tatters of his shirt and tied off the edges. He looked at Bobby, and then back at the small bundle. He used the flayed ends of the shirt to tie the bundle carefully to one of the belt loops along the waist of his jeans. He hoped it would hold.

He picked Bobby up, shifted his slight weight and grimaced. He made his way carefully towards the door and opened it, relieved to see no one outside the room.

He glanced around, trying to figure out which direction to go. He wished he had time to find the others. He knew Larkin had to have Annie, maybe Andy.

Not Dean; he knew they had left him. He took solace in the Angel's words that Dean was okay. Because right now he couldn't stand thinking of the alternative.

He felt it to his bones, though, a horrible need to hurry. That wasn't taking into account the angel's warning to hurry. To hide. He shook his head.

He turned and really hoped he was heading towards a door. The short hallway opened up to a large room. Although it was bare, it resembled a living room. That would make the large door there the front door, probably. He glanced back over his shoulder and paused, listening intently. Nothing. Good.

The small window in the door showed him it was evening. Great. He opened the door and carefully pulled it open, trying to jostle Bobby as little as possible. He scanned the porch and the yard. His mouth fell open.

They were in the middle of nowhere. He saw fields, large open fields, everywhere he looked. Crap. Where to hide? He studied the yard area closer and tried to make out the other buildings on the land.

_Hurry._

He blinked. Where did that come from? He shook his head, wincing a little at the residual pain. He stepped from the porch, convinced that he at least had to distance himself from the house.

He hurried toward a larger building outlined against the moonlit sky. Looked like a barn.

_NO!_

Ouch. He looked around. _Quit yelling, already._ He grumbled and then caught himself. It didn't really bode well - grumbling to voices only he could hear. So he wouldn't go to the barn. Where, then?

He continued walking and found himself on the other side of the barn; it looked like this had been an animal pen at some time. But he was eyeing the small structure off to the side. A chicken coop? It might work.

He muscled his way into the small building, relieved to see no chickens currently in residence.

He sat Bobby down gently on the straw covered floor and set about trying to put a little bit of a bed together. He eyed the copious amounts of straw. He saw a couple small blankets in the corner, thrown there for whatever reason by a previous visitor.

Grabbing the blankets, he set out to the far corner and started pushing straw into a haphazard pile. When it reached about his waist, he moved behind it and burrowed a small area out, spreading the straw generously around. He placed a blanket in the burrow and went to pick Bobby up, striding over to place him gently in the small indentation he had created. He packed the straw around the opposite side of the boy and then lay down beside him.

To anyone who looked from the door, they would be hidden behind the (hopefully) random looking straw pile. And if someone ventured in, at least Bobby would be fairly well hidden. Sam, too, if he had enough time to pull straw over himself. And if not, at least Bobby would be a little safer.

He burrowed into the straw and looked at Bobby. He was so peaceful; his long lashes standing out in stark contrast to his pale face. Sam frowned. He reached out and touched the lump forming on the back of the boy's head. It was a nice-sized bump, which meant no pressure inside the kid's skull. He just had a simple concussion. Hopefully. If he remembered his medical info well enough.

He settled and looked at Bobby again.

"Looks like it's just us again, kiddo."

He tried to keep watch, but his own injuries worked together and his exhaustion overwhelmed him. His eyelids soon lay closed as well. In sleep, his arm snaked out to cover Bobby's slight form beside him.

But his dreams revolved around his brother.

And he grinned with a small sigh of relief and satisfaction.


	12. Ch 11 The Fox and the Hen House

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch.11 "The Fox and the Hen House"  
**Author:** Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters:** Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers:** None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings:** P-13now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language,violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture)hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this storyuses lots ofreligious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'empity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary: **Dean meets a new 'friend'; Bobby speaks with his friends  
**Author's Notes:** Sequel to _Look Into His Eyes_.

* * *

_**Chapter 11 – The Fox and the Hen House**_

When awareness flooded his body, there was no denying it.

No.

Not when his back and chest felt like someone had taken a jackhammer and driven it full-force into him. He groaned. His body wouldn't obey his commands to move, though. So he focused instead on opening heavy eyelids.

There. He could do that. He blinked and looked around. Seeing a tall shape at the foot of the bed, his first thought was his brother was here.

Then everything came rushing back.

He about choked on the dread and uncertainty.

"Who are you?" The figure stood to their full height and moved closer. As he moved into the light, Dean blinked again. He snapped his mouth closed.

"Hello. I found you at the Carver house and called for assistance." The piercing eyes looked almost colorless they were so opaque. But not clear, and not white. Weird. He studied the man and blinked again. He looked familiar. He could have sworn...

"What was your name again?" Dean raised an eyebrow at that smirk. That looked familiar too.

"You can call me Mike." Those eyes twinkled and Dean really felt like he couldn't breath. 'Cause there was no way his dreams, or hallucination, or whatever it was could be reincarnated into some huge dude who resembled a freakin' Adonis.

The man leaned forward and with a grin whispered in Dean's ear.

"Not an Adonis, human. Just a visitor from your dreams." He leaned back and Dean's wide eyes followed him. The man's raised eyebrow mocked him. "You are not yet strong enough to leave here."

It was as if he knew the direction of his thoughts. And that just plain sucked. If he didn't feel almost bonelessly weak, Dean might have argued the...man? Or Angel's? Statement. As it was, he was so weak he couldn't even cross his arms and attempt to look annoyed. Which he was.

This was insane. He had seen lots of supernatural things...but angels? No way. He studied the thing beside him, and those eyes pierced him right back - looked like they were looking into his soul. He blinked.

This was not possible. Things like this just didn't _happen_. And right now, he really didn't want to be thinking about angels and divine interference...he needed to get to his brother.

"I need to get out of here. And what are you doing here?" "Mike's" eyes sparkled and a huge grin lit up his face, much to Dean's disgust. Then he gentled his expression and looked solemnly at him. Glanced towards the door and then back again.

"I said I would be near. So I am. And you may not leave...yet. You must heal first or you will be of no use to your brother and friends." He looked almost divinely down on Dean and leaned slightly forward. "You must be strong to be of use in the battle to come."

"Why're you talking in riddles, Mikey? I mean, come on...do some of that holy mojo stuff and make me magically better and then I can go and kick some bad guy...butt." The man's eyebrow raised and mouth quirked at the nickname. And a full grin followed Dean's little speech.

"The "holy mojo" is not possible right now. You must be rested and healed naturally for now. He wishes it..." At the "he", the angel looked up meaningfully. "Do not worry. Your time to fight is not yet upon us. When it is time, you will be ready."

Whatever Dean might have come up to combat that statement was stopped upon the arrival of a Doctor.

"Mr. Richards. You are a lucky, lucky man. We still haven't been able to contact the Carvers. You were staying there, right?" At Dean's nod he went on, oblivious to the panic Dean was actually feeling at this point. "Mr. Ale here was just walking by when he noticed the door open and he ...how did you say it, sir? Felt like something told you to just check it out?"

Mike nodded sagely, eyeing Dean.

"Well...lucky for you, Mr. Richards. Mr. Ale here, he called for help as soon as he saw you lying there and started putting pressure on your wound. Probably saved your life right there." The doctor nodded, beaming happily at his good Samaritan. "Who knows how long you would have been there until the Carvers showed up."

The doctor shook his head, proud of all the good in the world. Dean stared at him, completely disinterested in hearing how close to death he had been.

"When can I get outta here, Doctor?" Short and to the point. The doctor's eyes swung back to meet his, wide and unblinking.

"Mr. Richards. We had to dig a bullet out of your back. And while no major organs were damaged we need to keep an eye on you for a few days to make sure no infection sets in. It's probably going to be hard to move for a while since some of your muscles were damaged as well." Dean stared at the doctor. That wasn't going to happen. A few days was NOT going to happen while his brother and the Carvers, Andy too probably, were God knew where. A glance at Mike's face told him the angel knew exactly where his thoughts were straying.

"Doctor Lavon, I had a chance to talk with Mr. Richards for a few minutes. I doubt you could keep him here for long." An easy grin and gentle attitude had Mike steering the doctor into the kind of conversation Dean wanted to hear. Well, almost. "Maybe a day. By then this one would be climbing the walls. What do you say?"

The doctor glanced over at Dean and then back at Mike. Dean narrowed his eyes as the doctor seemed to agree to Mike's terms. Since when was this guy his keeper? Mike's eyes flashed over to meet Dean's and then rested again on the doctor.

Their quiet conversation continued out into the hallway. The angel dude was back a minute later. And Dean was glaring at him when he dared look at him.

"I am an adult. More than capable of making my own decisions. And I'll leave when I decide to." With a bit of concentration he was able to cross his arms belligerently and glare. And he did NOT wince in pain or have trouble breathing doing that. No, he didn't. Whatever.

He studied the being.

"I believe you need these to go very far, am I correct?" Mike's eyes twinkled as if he had just told Dean a wonderful joke.

Dean glared at him.

Mike mischievously dangled the Impala's keys just out of reach and then dropped them into his pocket, patting the fabric there, before sitting beside the bed.

"Dude, I don't care who you are. If you think saving my life makes you the keeper of my keys, you are so wrong. Those are mine...and you are so not driving my baby." He was livid and tensed as Mike appraised him. Then the angel's head fell back and a loud laugh echoed in the room.

"Get some rest, little one. Soon it will be time for you to go." Mike leaned back in the chair, a ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips. Dean was not amused.

All he could think about was Sam...was he okay? Man...he hated being stuck here - not knowing. He looked up, a dangerous glint to his eyes. He might be stuck, but it was time to get a few things straight.

"Who do you think you're calling little one, dude?"

* * *

Sam woke to study Bobby. Judging by the bright tendrils of light that wisped through the loose boards here, it was the next morning. Sam shuddered, wondering just how long of a "reprieve" they had.

He was angry at the word. Since he couldn't really let any of the anger out of his system right now, he directed it towards that little concussion-induced angel he had seen.

While he wanted to blame it all on a concussion and call it done. A part of him wanted desperately to believe the thing was real. Because that would mean Dean really would be okay. 'Cause everyone knew angels didn't lie - right?

He wanted Dean here so bad he could taste it. Didn't know if the fear he felt was due to a freakin' head injury or just 'cause he was a sissy. Didn't really care. He worked really hard to shove it away, instead studying Bobby's gently sleeping form.

He wondered what he was dreaming about; he looked so peaceful.

* * *

Bobby's dreams were nothing new.

His angel was there. Everything was right with the world.

He looked up at Jalmari and studied the angel's face. He was pretty. His face looked like it shouldn't be real. And his eyes were so clear, so bright. He loved looking into his eyes. It didn't make him scared. It didn't hurt.

Not like it did when everything was real.

Jalmari suddenly tensed and looked down at Bobby. His smile was soft, sweet.

If only he could stay here, where it was safe.

Bobby sighed.

"You cannot stay here, little one. You know that, yes?" Jalmari studied his young charge, understanding the direction of his thoughts even while he had to challenge them. He spared a glance toward Heaven and then again studied the little one in his care.

"It will soon be time to join Sam and be strong." He waited a beat. "You should remember your special words, child. They will help you, even when they can't protect you fully."

Bobby looked up at him, brown eyes so soulfully sad. The angel's breath caught. _Too innocent, Lord, too innocent. _

"Why? Jalmari, why this be?" A lone tear ran down the boy's face

"The evil, child, the evil wants you, needs you so it can be stronger." The boy looked away, a level of understanding on his face Jalmari wished fervently would not be. "It wants Sam as well."

There.

He knew that would bring the child's attention back.

"Why?" Simple question. But, ah, what kind of answer to give. Jalmari whispered in his mind, a prayer much like many of Bobby's. One simple word. _Help_.

"The evil seeks a special person like Sam to make him stronger. Sometimes evil does not truly understand what it seeks." Jalmari did not elaborate. The boy's sister was one of the special people too. His mouth thinned. He could not speak of Annie with her brother.

The angel sighed, looking once again to the heavens with closed eyes. _Lord, why? He is so young. _

"Sam?" The boy's simple question opened Jalmari's eyes and brought his head back down. His eyes found the child.

"It will be okay little one." _Please God let it be so._ "The evil does not understand - its enemies are held too close. And they will destroy him. Together."

Bobby squinted his eyes at the angel. Brightened.

"Bobby help? And Sam?" He understood? Jalmari knitted his eyes together.

"Yes, little one. It is your destiny. The innocents and the protectors, hunters and holy...all will become one to destroy true evil." He would not be allowed to discuss this further.

Instead, he drew the boy close to him.

"It is time, little one." Bobby turned to meet his eyes, piercing him with those intense brown eyes. "You must return. You must help Sam. Stay hidden."

He could not add that soon it would not matter.

Sam and the little one would be found, and the true battle would begin. The battle was just starting now, testing ground. Soon enough, the terms would be set and the consequences...the consequences would not be avoided.

But the ending was still unclear.

He prayed the humans caught in this battle would all survive. But his prayers felt heavy and he knew, he just knew it might not be possible.

He cocked his head to the side, leaving small thoughts behind.

"You must return now, little one. Hurry! Tell Sam you both must be hidden. Now, child!"

Bobby's eyes jerked open, meeting Sam's with such intensity it rocked him.

"Bobby?"

"Sa'. Hi'!" Bobby looked around, and started to cover Sam with some of the straw. He stopped for a second and concentrated. Sam watched him, studied him. "Hide...we hide now!"

Sam's eyes widened. He hadn't heard Bobby speak so clearly before.

He moved closer to Bobby, huddling him closer.

"Okay, little man...you got spidey senses going on there too or something?" While he was muttering softly to the boy his hand was gently pulling straw on top of them both, hopefully hiding them under a blanket of the course straw. He hugged Bobby close when he had pulled as much of it on them as he easily could.

His senses sharpened and settled on the knife satisfyingly within reach on his thigh. And he heard it then. A noise. Very slight. He might have missed it had they not both been listening intently.

Footsteps, outside. Just outside.

They stopped.

And then the door to their little coop opened with a loud whine and growl. The door was heavy and banged against the wall with a thud that echoed, ricocheting off of Sam's already pounding head. He winced, holding still.

"Whatever, Larkin. Like they aren't trying to get the hell out of your little fun house." The footsteps sounded softly against the straw on the floor and the stepped first one way and then another. "Lucky kids, I sure don't want to be around him now, that's for sure."

The man made a shuffling motion like he was turning on his heel. Then the door closed and the footsteps faded into the distance outside.

So, their escape hadn't gone unnoticed for long. And Larkin was mad. Well, that sucked. Sam considered the man's words. He was glad he and Bobby were safe, for now at least.

He pulled Bobby closer.

"You and me against the world, little man. Gotta find a way out of this, don't we?" Bobby nodded into his chest and burrowed. Sam winced, his wound there hurting, but he still pulled Bobby even closer.

Poor kid.

His eyes narrowed...they would find a way out of this. . .

He looked at the downy brown hair on Bobby's head, shifting the straw around a little to make out the little guy. He pulled him hard against him, trying to stem the trembling that radiated from the little man.

He needed to keep him safe. And they needed to find the others. He just hoped they would all be okay. He had a horrible "feeling" kind of feeling that they were heading into something bad.

Something really, really bad.


	13. Ch 12 Fighting Back

**Title/Chapter**: Ancient Words - Ch.12 – True Strength  
**Author**: Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**:P-13now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language,violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture)hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**:I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**:Annie fights back. A visitor helps her understand all their roles in the fight to come. She just has to make to it to that point. And we have a quick visit with Sam, Bobby and Andy.  
**Author**'**s Notes**: Sequel to Look Into His Eyes. I know my OC's are really a big part of this story, but I'm trying to introduce some parallels. I think they will become more clear as the story goes on.

* * *

_**Chapter 12- True Strength**_

When she next realized a presence near her, it was with a suddenness that frightened her.

There was something, some kind of energy, radiating from the person this time. She pulled against her restraints. No leeway. No surprise. Not like she hadn't tried enough to make her wrists bleed already.

She was afraid of this presence.

It was dark, and so wrong.

Not being able to see or hear anything, the first hit took her by surprise.

Her jaw felt like it almost cracked from the force of the blow. The next one wasn't as surprising, and she instead experienced just the pain. As the blows came, raining over her stomach, ribs, back to her face again, she slowly detached herself from the pain.

The intensity of the attack was making it hard to breath. To think, even. She struggled to remain conscious, but felt herself fading.

It all hurt, so bad.

It would be okay to forget it all for a little while. So close now. She could feel the comfort of unconsciousness as it caressed her, numbing her senses. It was within reach. _Oh please, let me leave this place now. Even if only for a little bit. _

And then it was gone.

The person wasn't there anymore. She remembered the last time they left after hurting her. She would not cry. She wouldn't. No. She was ready this time when the weight settled between her legs.

The previous encounters with this person had, if nothing else, somehow stretched her restraints to allow her slight movement now. She utilized it, bucking and trying to connect with something.

If she could have, she would have smiled at the solid pain that jarred her knee as it found something solid. She would NOT go down without a fight. She felt the hesitation and then the weight there left. A small victory.

The vicious slap across her face wasn't really a huge surprise. The force of it threw her head to the side and she struggled to pull her head back up. But the pain that bloomed all over her body fought against her movement. Her head lay, too heavy for her to move.

She felt her head pulled up by the hair, and then forced back until her neck was completely open. This time, there was a whisper soft caress below her jaw. She flinched. It trailed down the column of her neck, stopping only once it reached her chest. She groaned in frustration, anger.

Try as she might, she couldn't help the tears that pooled in her eyes, soaking the blindfold. _Lord, please. Please! I don't know how much more of this I can take. Please..._

His breathing was almost more panting now. Hitched, and erratic. She felt the breath along her neck, up towards her ear. She heard that soft breath in before the words hit her.

"You're all alone now, Annie. All alone. And you're mine." Larkin. Like she hadn't already guessed. What did he mean? "I've killed everyone else. Except your brother. He's close though. Very close."

Her breathing hitched and she struggled to comprehend what he was saying. He must be lying. He was lying. Her anger was so all encompassing, she was shaking. He could not say those things. She jerked her head back and brought it to the side with enough force to collide meaningfully with the man at her side.

Satisfying.

If only for a moment.

The punch in retribution brought stars to her eyes and her head again fell heavily back. She struggled to pull air in. Her nose was plugged, probably from a hit she had received earlier. And the gag was cutting off most of her remaining air.

She once again felt the soft comfort of darkness so close she could almost taste it. She would welcome unconsciousness. Really. She leaned into it, wanting it so desperately. But his next words caused her to fight.

He was talking about her brother.

"It will be so fitting to have you watch while I kill him." Panic coursed through her. His voice sounded so...smug. "You'll have to wait a little while, though. He has a very important role to play in my ceremony tomorrow night. He's the guest of honor."

She tried to follow his pleasant sounding words. But she was fuzzy headed and was only catching odd words. Their meaning escaped her. Should she be able to understand what he was saying? Did he even make sense?

She shook her head slightly in frustration. The pleasant tone of his voice was a work in terror in itself. She knew better. Nothing about this man was pleasant. At all.

What about her brother?

"I'm sorry, having trouble following?" A chuckle followed. "It's simple really. Your brother has the starring role in my ceremony tomorrow night. Of course, you might not appreciate his role. Since he's the sacrifice and all."

He said it so flippantly.

Annie couldn't breath. _OH God, no!_ Just what kind of ceremony did he have planned. Tears again wet her blindfold and the panic started to choke her. Her little brother...she was supposed to protect him. And she was stuck...here. Helpless. Fury filled her and she jerked against her restraints in another useless attempt to loosen the bonds. She screamed into her gag.

This could not happen. _God, where are you? We need you here. Don't let him kill Bobby. Please. Please!_ She would gladly take his place, she added mostly to herself.

As the weight again left the bed, she followed the soft chuckle. Desperate for any information. Anything. The others, surely they really weren't...she couldn't think it. Couldn't believe it. He had to be lying. They couldn't all be dead.

* * *

This was so satisfying.

The disappearance of his two star captives made him absolutely livid.

He had wanted to beat the pastor to a pulp. But it didn't feel right to him. It wouldn't satisfy him. He had to take it out on something meaningful. So he had considered her, and knew immediately it would help.

Hurting her did help. His anger was simmering, not overwhelming any longer. But somehow, her fight had been renewed, and he was amused. That she would attempt to fight, to hurt him, helpless as she was.

He saw the blood that pooled under her wrists and ankles, she had obviously tested the bonds and found them quite sturdy. Where did she think she would go? He hadn't thought she would fight that much. And found it highly satisfying.

He could tell she was intently listening by the way her head was cocked slightly to the side. Still trying to stay aware. He shook his head. He was so glad he had chosen her for his very own. Breaking her would be very satisfying indeed.

First, though, he grimaced in distaste at the amount of blood pooled in various places along her body.

He wanted her. Despite the blood all over her. Maybe in part because of it. The blood reminded him of how he'd hurt her. Reminded him of how weak she really was. And that she was all his.

As he considered his most special captive, he stood, excited. He crossed to the bed with intent flashing in his blue eyes.

She had listened to his breathing. Could tell by the erratic quality that he was thinking hard about something. When she heard his sudden movement, she tensed. As he once again settled in between her legs she squeezed her eyes shut against the humiliation, the repulsion, and the shame.

She knew it was coming.

But suddenly, with his weight heavily on top of her, she felt him reach up, brushing against her arm. He pulled the blindfold off then, and the light that hit her eyes was a painful diversion from the reality on top of her.

She blinked. It was hard to see out of one of her eyes. But the other one worked just fine. His leering face loomed large in front of hers. She winced and looked away, coming face to face with her tormentor wasn't all that satisfying.

"Look at me, Annie." It was a harsh command. She didn't want to obey. She shut her eyes firmly and shook her head.

The slap wasn't that painful, really. Or maybe she was used to it by now. When she still wouldn't look at him, he slapped her again.

And again.

But she wasn't going to play his game. She refused. She was shaking to her toes, she was so afraid of him. Afraid of what he might do...afraid of what she knew already he would do. But no matter what, she wasn't going to just cave to this monster. She'd fight however she could.

He grabbed her chin with a bruising grip, pulling her face towards his. His breath was hot against her face and she felt the bile rising. _Oh God, please. Help me!_

"No matter. I can taste how scared you are, woman." He settled more fully on top of her. She wanted so badly to just fade away. If she could just let go and slip into unconsciousness, she wouldn't have to feel...this. "And, since there's no one around to care anymore..." He paused and she flinched at the meaning behind his words. "...You don't need this anymore."

He used a knife to cut through her gag, drawing it out of her mouth with a flourish. She coughed, gagging at the removal and the sudden need to breath deeply. He laughed.

"I'm gonna love making you scream. And I can't wait to hear it..." With those taunting words he raised up and roughly began.

A tear ran away, tickling the side of her face as it fell into her hair.

He teased her with the knife as he used her body. The pain of each slice kept her from succumbing to the darkness. Frustrated, she tried to pray silently. But there was too much.

The room spun around her, the sounds, the light, even behind her closed eyes, the dryness of her mouth. She tried to force the panic down. This is what he wanted. She did not want to give in. _God, help me!_ She couldn't form more coherent prayers. Finally, the simple prayer repeated in her mind instead.

She didn't realize she was whispering the words until Larkin stopped his torment to lean down, his breath hot against her neck.

"God can't help you now, Annie." His laugh following that statement made her skin crawl. He was right. God couldn't help her now. Or at least, He wasn't. She tried to fight the panic once again. But a sudden deep stabbing pain in her shoulder made all pride flee, and her panic rose in a loud scream of pain and frustration. It echoed in her head.

And then, finally, there was blessed darkness.

Her lone scream was just what he craved. He grinned heavily at her, again excited. He pushed his body to finish. But with her unconscious, the thrill faded and he stared at her, disappointed.

The knife still stood straight against her shoulder, the blood flowing there satisfying in its own right. He pulled it free, not really caring about the blood that pooled below her. He'd stop it eventually. He wanted her to live for a while still.

But the blood, everywhere, commanded his attention.

The blood all over her really was disgusting. Took away from his enjoyment. He needed to do something about that.

While she was still out, he cut her loose from her restraints. He pulled his hands away from handling her and looked at the blood distastefully.

Yes, this would not do. He loved to see her hurt; all her wounds were definitely intoxicating. But the blood he could do without. He pulled her limp body from the bed, deciding to drop her in the tub. The water would bring her around. Especially if it was cold.

Destination in mind, he pulled her slight form up easily, admiring the cuts adorning her body. He smoothed the hair back from her face. Breaking her would be a thrilling experience.

Thrilling, indeed.

* * *

Bobby jumped in his sleep as Annie's scream echoed through the still night air. Beside him, tears ran from Sam's eyes. He knew that scream meant that she was suffering. He just _knew_ it was Annie, somehow felt it to his bones.

Larkin was probably tormenting her because he was furious that he and Bobby had escaped. And as much as he would love to go back and help, maybe stick it to Larkin even (he grinned at that thought) - it wasn't possible.

His grip on Bobby tightened.

He had to keep this little guy safe. And there was no way he could leave him, not now.

But soon. Soon, he would figure a way out of this.

_Dean, please be okay. _

He would find everyone, his brother too.

_Please. _

The thoughts of seeing his brother kept the grip on his erratic emotions in check, mostly.

_Dean. _

He needed his brother. Looking down at the slight form snuggled in his arms, he shifted and sighed. Bobby needed his sister. They all needed someone, or something.

Suddenly Bobby bolted awake, eyes frantic.

"An-nie!" His loud whisper made Sam cringe. Hoping no one heard he swiftly moved to let the boy see him.

"Hey there, little man. We'll find her as soon as we can. I promise, okay? Right now, you've got me..." Tears fell softly from Bobby's deep brown eyes, running down his face unchecked. He met Sam's eyes with startling clarity.

So sad.

He was so very sad.

"Sam-mie stay?" Softly spoken, the eyes darted around fearfully.

"Of course, kiddo. Wouldn't leave you for nothin' - promise." Sam pulled the boy in for a hug, surprised when he let him and even burrowed deeper. The little guy sighed deeply, settling into Sam's embrace. He still trembled.

He was trying to remember when they had been taken...Tuesday night? Monday night? Everything seemed a little fuzzy these days. Monday night. He was pretty sure.

They were taken that night. But he didn't remember anything after that until Larkin woke him with his idea of a good time. He was pretty sure that had been sometime the following day...Tuesday. And they had escaped that night...so it was overnight. Almost Wednesday.

He doubted Bobby had drunk or eaten anything since they had been taken. . . he knew he hadn't. His stomach protested, but that really was the least of his troubles. But Bobby, he needed to at least get some water of some kind. How long could a kid go without water? An adult...4-5 days? A kid?

He studied Bobby's trembling form...he would have to find something for them to drink. Somehow. _Uh, God? Would love some ideas here..._

As if in answer, a loud roll of thunder echoed in the distance and the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the roof was heard. He looked up. Shook his head. Nah, had to be coincidence..

He looked around and saw a metal bucket hiding underneath a shelf in the corner. Great. He disengaged himself from Bobby, patting his shoulder when he looked up at him.

"Just a second, kiddo." He walked with stiff muscles to collect the metal bucket. A leak in the same vicinity was already dripping water steadily into the little corner. He moved the bucket under it, using the first bit of water to swish around in the bucket to clean it a little. Dumping that, he set the bucket to catch the dripping water.

At least they would have a little something to drink. He was a little surprised Bobby wasn't complaining, though he wasn't really a complaining kind of kid.

He looked over to find Bobby back asleep and grinned softly. Sweet kid. He lay beside him, leaving the water to collect by itself.

His eyes drifted shut with thanks, for the water anyway. Everything else still sucked. He fell asleep with a ghost of a grin on his face. Silent thoughts to God and angels echoed in his head.

_You listening up there? Water's great, but getting us out of here would be even better. Saving us all would be the icing on the cake, there, dude._

* * *

The rain outside fell, unnoticed by Annie.

Deep within the safety of her mind, Annie rocked. The pain wasn't here, not the physical anyway. But the rest was still there. She choked on the sobs that threatened to rise.

_God, where were you? Where are you now? _She surveyed the nothingness of her solitary fortress and turned, running into a solid winged form. Knowing instinctively that this was her angelic visitor, she dropped into his arms. And let the sobs come.

"God is still with you, little one. His promises are always kept. You know this. Yes?" She nodded against his chest. She felt safe, if only for a moment. And she didn't want to let that feeling go.

But you didn't just pass up the opportunity to talk with an angel, even if you were living through hell on earth. She sighed and let go of the being. Looking up at him, she stepped back.

She was a little surprised. Well, she was having a conversation with an angel...that was surprising in its own way to begin with. But no, what had gotten her was that this wasn't the same one as before.

"I am Apostal.." She watched his wings tense and flutter in what looked like slight agitation. "Reelaiah is now with the holy one."

"So is everyone still alive...because he said..." She couldn't complete the sentence. The angel looked at her gravely .

"For now, yes." What did that mean?

"It is not possible for me to tell you anything further about those in this battle with you." He looked at her sadly. She couldn't help but wonder what he knew - that wasn't "possible" for him to say.

She swallowed, taking a breath she hadn't known she was holding. And sank to the floor, holding her knees and taking shaky breaths.

This was all becoming too much. Lost in thoughts of everything that had happened to her, she suddenly paled and remembered something Larkin had said. Raw fear gripped her.

"He said he wanted to use Bobby as a ..." She couldn't say the word, and instead tears filled her eyes. "He's an innocent, why should he have to suffer? Why?"

"The Lord watches over you and your brother; He is the shade at your right hand." It was a scripture from Psalms. It was probably meant to make her feel better, but it didn't do a whole lot to comfort Annie. The angel looked at her somberly and she looked away. "These tests you face, your brother faces, evil means them for evil gains. But the Lord would use them to strengthen you, and for good."

Her wide eyes flew around to meet his burning ones.

"How can THIS be turned to good. How can THIS strengthen me. How can HURTING my brother do anything to make him any more innocent, or good, or whatever?" She shook her head angrily. "There is no way..."

"Remember His Words in James, child." She struggled to remember what he was speaking of. She found the verses in her mind and looked at him, a little speechless.

Joy?

She was supposed to find joy in this?

She angrily shook her head.

"You are only considering the first of it, child. Remember the whole." He studied her, waiting for her to remember. She tried. And found it in the recesses of her memory:

"Consider it pure joy...when you face trials of many kinds..." She winced...this part she had already remembered. Discarded. She picked over the words, not remembering every single word...but most. "...you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance ...works...so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything..."

Her eyes widened. And she shook her head angrily. God couldn't...there was no way..._no way_ for Him to use this hell to make her grow in faith, in strength. She looked at him.

He looked at her.

She crossed her arms, defiant.

He crossed his.

She sighed.

He unfurled his wings.

She stepped back.

"Okay, so I should be happy he's killing me back there, raping me..." Oh, she hated that word. Hated acknowledging it. "I should be happy because it'll make me a better person, huh?"

Her belligerence bounced off the angel and he stepped forward, taking her hand.

"You are upset now, little one. But through all testing you grow. To win the battle ahead you must be able to rise above this. This testing must end with you accepting the strength that God can give you." He studied her, seeing the tears she angrily wiped away. "His power is made perfect in weakness. His power is strongest in those who are the most broken. It is they who must embrace His strength, His power."

She was listening, really listening now. It was like a Sunday school lesson on steroids. She couldn't help but listen. This was part of the whole - part of who she was. Even in her anger she recognized the truth of his words.

"It is you, child, the Lord wishes to help end this fight. You are protection and faith. But you must let the Lord strengthen you. The others in this battle need you strong. Or they will lose." He looked at her sadly. "If you lose, then everyone loses."

"You can't put this on me...I don't even know if I can hang on, back there." She turned away, torn between wanting to embrace the hope, the destiny he offered her, and the reality of her circumstances. "I want to say no problem, God, give it all to me." Her voice broke. "But, I don't know how much more I could take."

She looked at him, all anger gone.

He reached a giant hand out to encompass her shoulder.

"You can do this, Annie. God will be with you. Decide which path you will take. Embrace your destiny, child. Or all will be lost." He looked at her and a tear ran down his chiseled face. It broke her heart, that he obviously hurt for her."It is soon time for you to go back."

Looking at the angel's pain, feeling her own, she made her decision. This wasn't all going to be for nothing. She wasn't going to roll over and forget everything she believed in. She wasn't going to let that evil man win.

"I can't do this alone." She took a shuddering breath. Looked up at him, meeting his eyes with a fierce determination.

"You won't be alone, child. God will be close. And I will be as well. You will be strengthened. Do not focus on what happens, rather on what will come." He pulled her close for a comforting hug. She relaxed into him, reveling in the safety she felt there.

And then he was gone. And she felt her safe spot slipping away.

It was time...

It was time for her to show what she was really made of.

* * *

She came to shivering. In a tub? Filled with cold water. Cold, almost red, water.

She sat up in tub, looking down at the various cuts and wounds over her body. The water was tinged with blood, but it took a few moments to figure out why. Most of the cuts had stopped bleeding. Mostly. None were bleeding badly.

Except one.

She couldn't see it that well, but she could see the solid line of red draining still from her shoulder. Seeing a washcloth, she gingerly wet it and wiped herself off as well as she could quickly, then started trying to apply pressure to the shoulder wound.

Movement beside her brought her eyes up to take in her tormenter. She glared at him.

He simply smiled at her. Creepy.

She crossed her arms over her chest and angled away from him, still applying pressure to her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're still with us." It was said so casually. She tensed.

"Like you really care." She tossed a look over her shoulder.

She had to try and work to fight the dizziness her slight movement was causing. How much blood had she lost? She blinked her eyes repeatedly, trying to stem the weakness overtaking her.

The shock of the water must have woken her, but the blood loss was threatening to send her over the edge again. She shivered.

"Oh, I do care. I would like to have you alive for at least a little while longer." Again with the casual tone. Although, when she looked back over her shoulder at him again, his pale blue eyes were cold in their intense perusal of her. She shivered again.

It was harder to keep her eyes open. They felt so heavy. She felt so limp. She grasped consciousness tenuously. She wanted to show that she could fight. But her body seemed to have other ideas.

She leaned heavily into the back of the tub.

"You want me to live a little longer, you might want to do something about this shoulder." She tossed the words casually over her shoulder, but the thought of him having anything further to do with her...she shivered. But she wanted to live too. _God, give me strength._

Her last thought before the darkness invaded was of her brother. _God, protect him, plea..._

Her body slumped forward, and she again welcomed the sweet reward of unconsciousness.

He sighed heavily and flipped the drainer up to let the crimson water escape.

She didn't move at all.

He frowned, wondering just how much blood she had lost. He felt for a pulse. She was alive. He stepped back to consider his next move. Blood losshow to take care of that little problem?

She bled from several wounds, but only her shoulder leaked consistently.

He leaned to study the slowly bleeding shoulder wound. It really didn't look so bad. He could take care of that. He grabbed a small towel to place over the wound, then covered her with another towel and picked her up.

As he walked with her from the bathroom, he hummed a light tune. She had done wonders for his mood.

He would enjoy keeping her around for a while.

* * *

Downstairs, in a still darkened room, Andy thought silently to himself.

He occasionally tugged at his restraints.

He'd finally started recalling scriptures. He knew almost entire books by heart and he started with all the ones he remembered from Genesis, then moved through each subsequent book. He had no idea how long he'd been here, how long it had been since they took Sam and knocked him unconscious.

What he did know was that he knew a lot of scriptures. And he'd been reciting them long enough to make it all the way through Genesis and Exodus. He was not as familiar with Leviticus and worked through those verses he had memorized rather quickly.

He was just getting started on Numbers when a horrifying scream broke the silence. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he shook.

Annie?

He remembered Larkin's words from before, _"I have plans...Especially Annie. The rest of you will die. She will just wish she had."_

He found himself cold with fear for Annie. _Oh my dear Lord..._He looked heavenward in silent, unspoken agony.

He worried anew for Sam. And Bobby.

Little Bobby...Oh God! He didn't want to think about what awaited all of them. But especially Bobby. That little boy was so innocent..how could he possibly make sense of all this? It was too much.

With an angry shake of his bound wrists, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the cool wall. _Why, Lord, Why? How could you let this happen?_

Tears trickled down his cheeks, whisked away by the cloth fabric bag over his head. It stifled him. He struggled for air as he fought to breath through the thick gag. He was choking. He sucked air in through his nose, and panicked when it didn't feel like enough.

Several long minutes passed as he struggled to steady his breathing. He hit the back of his head against the wall, wincing at the impact but uncaring of the pain. He couldn't do anything, stuck here like this. He was just a pawn for Larkin. And Annie...he hung his head.

He'd loved that girl like a sister for over a year now. Could have felt more...just never felt right. That she could be hurting...He sobbed in frustration. Damn it!

_Lord...where are you in this? _

Spent, he closed his eyes to the blackness of his world and focused inward. This was all just too much. Nothing he could think of or pray for could make it better.

He was unsure of anything anymore.

_Oh, Lord, why?_

* * *

So - I know we didn't see much of Sam this chapter, and I hate sharing such details of Annie's ordeal ... but it all works together. This fic especially is about exploring how the guys deal with true faith and spirituality, not the half-real, almost there version we have seen on the show a few times now. We've seen glimmers, but never a real full understanding of how that affects the brothers. My thought? That each brother's spiritual acceptance or lack thereof is a lot more complicated than what's been presented in canon.

Just to leave you thinking - when a person is stripped bare, when they're taken to the edge of their endurance and then pushed further, when they stay the course even when it should be impossible - what does that say about the strength of the that person? We're seeing that with Annie within the story, but I really want the reader to consider the same as it relates to Sam. This season (third) and last season we've seen him tested and pulled and pushed and to what end? How about Dean?

Just some things to think about. grins

Kat

Oh - and thanks for the continued comments - I realy do appreciate them even if I'm horrible about responding to them. Life is crazy and I just don't always have the time I'd like to leave replies.

* * *


	14. Ch 13 Voices

**Title/Chapter: **Ancient Words - Ch.13 - Voices  
**Author:** Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters:** Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers:** None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings:**P-13now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language,violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture)hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this storyuses lots ofreligious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:**I don't own 'empity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** Dean learns more about his situation and our other heroes move forward.  
**Author's Notes: **Sequel to Look Into His Eyes. Please read through my author's notes Here (from first chapter) and Here (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) if you need more information, explanations, etc.

* * *

_**Chapter 13 - Voices**_

The bright splashes of yellow criss-crossing the wall introduced the sun's arrival to a brand new day.

Dean groaned.

7a.m.

It was way too early He threw his arm over his face to hide the bright morning light. His eyes flew open when he remembered where he was; the events of the last few days.

_Sammy!_

He sat up in the hospital bed, wincing in pain but uncaring.

"You are ready to go then?" That...thing...was a thorn in his side. Dean's eyes flew over to meet the endless eyes of the angel.

The thing had guarded him the last day like an errant child, raising his eyebrows every time his thoughts had ventured towards escaping the hospital. And the three times he had ventured from the bed, his little friend had planted himself in front of the door, his huge form filling the escape route.

Twice he was really just trying to take a leak. Innocent...he was innocent. Really. So now, when he looked up at Mikey (he smirked at his hilarity) he was a little surprised to see some kind of acceptance on the chiseled face of his new best friend.

"I've been ready to go ever since I woke up." Dean glared at him, then eased the expression. He didn't know why, but he really thought that Mike was trying to be helpful. How keeping him away from his brother for the last agonizing day was being helpful, he had no clue. But it looked like he could make his great escape. Finally.

His good pal Mikey was holding out the keys to the Impala like an olive branch.

"You are healed enough to leave, hunter. And while I will be with you, I cannot stay in this form any longer. I must attend to other details." This time the big man settled a hand on Dean's shoulder and smiled gently.

He felt a surge of warmth throughout his body, and the pain from his wound receded slightly. Not all the way, but to a bearable level.

"Man, that's better than pain pills!" Dean smiled up at him gratefully. "Why couldn't you have just done that yesterday, then I could have been kicking some butt already."

"It was not time then." Dean hated the riddles. But he was ready to go now, and it was well past time.

He just needed to figure out where exactly he could be going. Too bad he couldn't have a GPS locator implanted in Sam's behind. As often as the kid was kidnapped, it would come in useful. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up to the angel smirking at him.

"Follow the details you remember, little one." At Dean's sharp look up, he smirked again, and then he was gone.

Huh.

He'd never get used to that. And it didn't matter how many times he thought about it, said it or saw it, he'd never get used to uttering the word "angel" with seriousness. He shook his head. Not to mention, the being's insistence on kiddie names was a blow to his pride.

Okay. Details...what details did he remember? His eyes widened as he remembered one important clue he had not had time to follow up on. He hoped it wasn't too late.

He planted his feet firmly on the floor and groaned as a sudden chill worked its way down his backside.

Stupid hospital gowns.

He grasped the back of the gown and pulled the sides closed. He walked over to the long cabinet tucked in the corner and grinned when he saw his clothes nestled inside.

So, he'd get dressed, blow this popsicle stand, and then go on a Larkin hunt. And his brother and the rest of the gang better be okay, or there'd be hell to pay.

* * *

When the bright warmth of the morning sun touched Annie, she started to turn with a soft sigh. But she stilled with a gasp and her eyes flew open in confusion.

The pain...her whole body was a mass of hurt. But her shoulder - a sob escaped before she could bite her lip - her shoulder radiated intense pain.

She studied her surroundings, trying to remember what was going on. The last few days were a dizzying blur of panic and pain. She remembered it...but only as part of a fuzzy haze. Why did she feel so tired?

As awareness crept slowly over her, she realized she was in the same room as before, at least - she thought so. She slowly tried to work her way into a sitting position, but barely moved before her body sank back down.

That plan a failure, she turned slowly instead, intending to curl on her side. But the pain in her shoulder brought her up short. She couldn't put any weight on it. Her face screwed up in concentration, she slowly twisted and turned to try and curl on her other side.

It was then that she noticed that her good arm couldn't move too far anyway. She pursed her lips in frustration when she saw the rope tied around her wrist. Man. She tugged at the rope, and found that it was tied underneath the bed somewhere. Hmm.

She kicked her feet a little and found that they were untied. Her eyes widened.

After being so tightly restrained previously, she was surprised. Considering how weak she felt, though, it was clear she wasn't as much of a threat.

But still...barely tied, no gag, no blindfold. She almost felt human again. She snorted at the idea. Seriously, how sad was it that she was grateful to be bound to a bed by only one wrist?

Hey...she was even covered. A cool white sheet covered her sore body. She had never been so grateful for a sheet before. Rolling her eyes - _when did she grow an attitude?_ - she considered her options.

She did have options...really...she did. They just didn't want to present themselves.

Feeling her helplessness, she sighed as she remembered more details from the last few days. Larkin. She didn't even want to go near those memories. She clenched her eyes shut against them as they came anyway.

She rubbed her face against the pillow to wipe the tears away, frustrated. She wanted to feel strong, she really did. But faced with the memories as they wove through her mind, she had a hard time feeling it.

_Really, God...I'm sorry but this is hard._ Knowing that God was with her didn't make this a lot easier to bear. It just made the fear of it all a little easier. Helped her believe that somewhere underneath all the evil plans, God would find a way to work some bit of it for good.

She gritted her teeth, feeling overwhelming anger at her helplessness. She refused to believe that Larkin had really killed everyone. Yet. He had some higher goal in mind. Not just revenge. She could feel it to her bones.

She had to get out of here. Find her brother. Find Andy. Find Sam and Dean. Then they could try to take care of Larkin. But she couldn't do anything stuck here. _God? What now?_

Nothing.

Okay, then...

_God, help me please...give me strength...help me find the others. They can't be...I know they're not dead. Lord...lead me to them, please. Please. Help me fight. God. Help me fight. _

The soft mantra repeated long after she opened her eyes. She blinked heavily against the light of the room, hating how weak she felt.

She drew in a deep breath and pushed the pain aside as she pulled her legs to her chest and threw them to the side in one fluid movement. She used the momentum to slide to the floor.

She took a deep breath, again trying to stem the rush of pain.

She pulled on her tether, testing it's strength. She was surprised to see it wasn't really tied all that tightly. She pulled as hard as she could. Okay, it was tight enough. Or she was a wimp. Either way, she would have to have some help getting that rope loose.

She looked around, then rolled her eyes at the helplessness that again overwhelmed her. _Come on, God, help me out here. . .get me out of here. . ._

She hated feeling so weak. She leaned into the side of the bed, resting her pounding head against the mattress. Sighing in weariness. She decided she would at least try to feel a little more decent.

The slight movement had caused her to shiver as the cool stagnant air hit her now exposed body. She was really tired of being naked. Pulling vehemently at the loose sheet on top of the bed, she felt it slide free and grabbed it as it floated down to rest beside her.

Shaking with the pain the movement caused her, she spent several minutes winding the cool cloth around her body. She finally collapsed against the side of the bed again. She was covered up again, but she was still trapped.

What now?

The slight noise of the doorknob turning caused her to panic slightly. _Oh, God, give me strength here...please..._

* * *

Outside the warmth of a new day permeated the chill in the little chicken coop.

Bobby stirred first, staring into Sam's face and blinking his brown eyes as a lone tear escaped.

His head hurt.

He turned his head and nestled more firmly against Sam's warm form.

Weird.

Bobby pulled away to study Sam again. He was _really _hot. Should he be that hot?

He remembered when he had been sick, and Annie said something about a fever. It was a bad thing and made you really hot. And it looked like Sam might have one. 'Cause he didn't have a shirt on and he was still really hot. Bobby shivered. He was still cold.

He thought for a minute and then sat up, looking around the little smelly room they were in. There was lots of straw though, and he couldn't really see around it, so he stood up carefully.

That made him dizzy so he closed his eyes for a minute and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again he looked around from his new view. And he saw the pail of water in the corner.

Bobby remembered how Annie made him feel better when he was sick

"_Here sweetie, this will make you feel better." Annie brought a cold washcloth to rest on his forehead and it felt so good._

The water would help Sam. He grabbed the blanket that was still sitting where he had slept and took it over to the bucket of water.

That was when he realized he was thirsty.

He eyed the water and looked back at Sam and swallowed. Just a quick drink. He dropped the blanket and cupped his hands and took a big drink of the water. It was cold and felt so good when he swallowed it. He wanted more, but he thought that Sam needed some too. He cupped his hands and tried not to lose too much water as he walked carefully over to where Sam slept.

"Sam-mie?" He looked at his friend. He didn't move. He lowered his hands to let some water drop a little at a time into his mouth. Sam made a gurgling sound so he stopped and dripped the rest of the water over his forehead instead. Sam coughed and swallowed deeply.

"Dean?" Sammie's eyes were closed, and Bobby studied him. He wanted Dean. His brother. He swallowed and felt the wet on his eyes again. He wanted Annie .

Maybe when Sam woke up they could find Annie and Dean. He nodded. Maybe that was what they could do.

He went back over the water and took another drink. And another. He swiped his mouth and then grabbed part of the blanket and put it in the water. He pulled it out and held it carefully as he dragged the blanket back over to Sam.

He wiped the wet blanket over Sam's face and then his chest. He was all sweaty. Yucky. He wiped as much of the sweaty wet away that he could with the blanket and then set the damp blanket on Sam's forehead.

He was still cold.

He looked down at Sam and stumbled to rest on the other side of him. He curled up beside Sam and pulled his arm out, resting his head on the hot shoulder. Then he pulled his arm around him like a blanket.

His eyes drifted shut and he whispered softly as he fell asleep.

"Annie. Hep. Miss Annie."

* * *

Annie was wishing desperately she could be somewhere else. She eyed the turning of the doorknob with fear, even while mentally trying to prepare herself.

She couldn't help the tremor that shook her body, or the tear that leaked from the corner of her eye. She huddled against the side of the bed.

_Head high, child._

She looked around quickly, but didn't have time to ponder the voice in her head as she again came to look at the man from her nightmares.

She decided to listen to the voice in her head; it didn't seem too crazy.

She held her head up high and glared at Larkin as he entered the room and looked down on her.

She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she could stop the trembling. But her eyes still burned as she stared at Larkin eye to eye, unflinching.

He laughed.

He laughed at her.

She narrowed her eyes as she considered him. He lowered himself to sit on the back of his feet as he leaned closer to her.

"And where do you think you're going?" So calm. So casual. She almost flinched. Almost. But she caught herself.

"Anywhere but here would be great."

His eyes widened and he leaned until he was just inches from her face.

_**NOW!** _

Huh?

She didn't take any time to think, she pulled her head back far and then rammed it as hard as she could into the face in front of her. He fell backwards like a fallen log, hard and heavy.

For the first time in her life, Annie smiled at the pain of another. And _OUCH! _ Her head wasn't quite hard enough for that hit either.

When he didn't move, she looked around hurriedly to see how she could take advantage of this..

_Give me strength, Lord, Please!_

She blinked her eyes, trying to stem the dizziness she was now feeling. Studying the leg sprawled in front of her she said a quick prayer of thanks. For there, peaking from under the bunched leg of Larkin's jeans, was a knife.

She about sobbed in relief as she slid the knife free and started working on the rope around her wrist. It frayed open a moment later and she stopped herself from throwing the knife to the floor. She might be able to use it later. Grasping it tightly, she urged her sore body to stand.

It took a couple of dizzying minutes, literally. The room did not want to stop spinning. But she finally made it to her feet, swaying still. She fell lightly into the wall and used it to steady herself as she moved to the doorway.

She peeked out the doorway and with a sigh of relief noted the hallway was empty.

_Bobby_. Where would she find her brother? She needed to find him, desperately. She knew there were others around, others who worked with Larkin. She couldn't be caught again.

She shuddered. She was so cold. She needed to get moving.

She stepped out of the room and held onto the wall as the world around her continued to spin. She only saw one other doorway in this hallway and made her way slowly over to it. Maybe Bobby was in there.

First she listened at the doorway. She could barely make out the sound of soft breathing.

She turned the knob, frowning when it didn't want to turn. Oh. It was locked. She flipped the lock mechanism and again turned the knob, relieved when it turned this time.

She peered into the room and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The figure in the corner drew her attention. She couldn't help her gasp.

_Oh Dear Lord. _

* * *

So ... just what has Annie found? And where is Dean off to - will his hunt for Larkin prove successful? Are Bobby and Sam destined to stay in the henhouse forever? All this and more as the story continues ...

ROTFL ... couldn't help myself ... but, seriously - if you're reading I'd love to hear what you're thinking. I know I focus more on my OC's than some people like, but I think I've made them more real as a result. What do you think? bats eyelashes


	15. Ch 14 Breaking

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch.14 - Breaking  
**Author**: Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**:R now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter MANY religious references: Overall rated for language,violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**:I don't own 'empity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**: Dean makes a break for it. Annie finds a surprise, and Andy realizes an inner strength.

* * *

_**Chapter 14 - Breaking**_

He had almost gotten clean away. He was dressed and almost to the door when he was caught like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. The nurse had wandered in looking like she was ready for some serious flirting, but her expression changed swiftly when she realized her cute patient was trying to sneak out.

And while nurse Robin was quite the looker, Dean was not amused by her adherence to hospital policy. She stood her ground in front of him, blocked the door, even threatened to call security. His charms did nothing to influence leniency.

She had insisted on him filling out every last form created in the damn hospital.

And when he'd finally been able to walk out of the building, he had stopped short when he realized something important was missing.

He hadn't stopped to consider how he was gonna make a break for it, foolishly assuming that he had the Impala keys because the car was actually at the hospital.

Him and Mikey were gonna have words. 'Cause his car was nowhere to be found, and that stupid angel had to have known that when he handed him the keys earlier.

The look on his face when his baby wasn't in sight must have awakened a sympathy card in the nurse's system somewhere. She had walked him down after he was discharged (hospital policies and all that), and perked right up when she realized he was stranded.

She offered to give him a ride to his car . . . but he needed to wait for her break. He grimaced. He hated waiting. He declined her perky offer, opting instead to call for a cab. But the pretty nurse would have none of that and told him to hang on.

Within minutes she had switched breaks with another and was leading him out the door to where her own little Honda waited. He folded his frame into the small space uncomfortably and gave her the Carver's address. Even if his car wasn't there, maybe he could at least have a look around the house.

They were there within minutes and he was understandably distracted by gleaming black metal as

Robin slipped him her phone number with a quick peck on the cheek. She winked at him and a soft giggled faded into the air as her little piece of junk pulled away. He slipped the little piece of paper into his jeans and turned reverently towards his baby, pretty nurses all but forgotten.

She was parked in front of the Carver home, waiting for him. He would have hugged her if there hadn't been neighbors out in the next yard over. Instead, he settled for patting her hood and grinning stupidly at her.

The police tape blocking the front door of the house gave him pause. He wondered for a moment why he hadn't encountered any of his friends in blue by now. Surely they were wondering what had happened at the Carver house. He studied the house for a moment, eyes narrowed.

His thoughts quickly wondered to his brother.

He sure hoped Sammy was okay. His last glimpse of his brother was through half-conscious eyes as he was trying to protect Bobby.

Bobby . . . Annie . . . Andy. They were all in danger now. He closed his eyes against the errant thoughts and put his poker face back on. This wasn't solving anything.

He needed a plan.

The angel's words echoed in his head sharply - he needed to remember the details. The problem was, what were they? He ran through Monday, trying to sort out any details he could use right now.

With a sudden grin, he remembered something that just might help him. Damn church ladies had attacked the Carver house just before he could check that camera tape out. Something might have been caught on that. Something he could use.

With sudden purpose he opened the groaning door and settled into the seat, wincing as his sore back hit the hard leather. A deep breath and the engine roared to life.

He was off to play make believe.

His hand strayed to the small box with his fake ID's and he considered what role might make his goal easier. He grinned slightly as one caught his eye on side glance. Then his expression hardened as he once again thought of his brother and the others.

He had to figure out where they were.

* * *

Feeling the cool air across more of her skin than she cared to think about, Annie stood in the doorway rigidly for a moment. A quick glance behind her and across the hall reminded her that she at least needed to try to stay hidden.

She clutched the sheet tighter around her and padded inside the room, closing the door gently behind her.

She really needed to get away, and she knew she didn't have much time. But she couldn't turn away.

Not from this.

The broken form in the corner demanded her empathetic attention and she moved haltingly towards it. She caught her breath as the pain invaded, then willed it back and stumbled to rest beside the figure.

It was a woman. Or what was left of her.

She was breathing: So she was alive. But she was so bloodied and bruised. She quietly studied the woman, realizing the cuts on her closely matched the ones on her own body.

She had been used, toyed with. Left mostly for dead at this point, a thin blanket her only covering.

Annie couldn't help the tears that fell from her eyes as she studied the poor woman. She moved the bloodied strands of what was once blond hair and caught her breath in recognition.

_The nurse. _She remembered this nurse. This must have been the nurse who had gone missing from the hospital when Larkin went after Bobby and Sam before.

What kind of monster had Larkin become? Was he always like this, or had his demonic possession turned him into this? She shook her head, stemming the panicky questions.

What should she do?

She had limited opportunity. And she wasn't strong enough to carry or drag this woman to safety. But she could comfort her for a minute before she tried to go for help.

'Hey . . . hey there . . ." The woman awoke with a gasp and lifted startled eyes to meet Annie's, instinctively backing her body away from the unknown threat. She stilled when she met Annie's eyes.

"Who are . . . am I still here?" She looked from Annie down to study herself and then the tears started, turning into soft sobs that wracked her broken body. Annie held her for a moment. Then pulled away reluctantly.

"Can you move?" Deep blue eyes met hers intently, reading the unspoken question: _Can you come with me? I don't want to leave you_.

"I don't think I can walk...one of my ankles is broken." She winced. "I think I lost a lot of blood . . He stabbed me, cut me, so many times. I don't think I can go anywhere."

She shook her head dully and shifted her eyes from Annie's.

"Okay, look . . ." Annie reached out to pat her shoulder and waited for blue eyes to swing back to meet hers again. "I was able to get away but he'll be coming to anytime now. So I don't have much time. I've got friends, some of them are here somewhere . . ."

She remembered Larkin had told her they were all dead. But she couldn't believe that. She _wouldn't_ believe that. She shook the thought from her mind.

"If I can get away, get to some help . . . I promise we'll come back for you, okay?" Annie was lost in the sadness those blue eyes pinned her with and blinked. She glanced away, unable to handle the raw emotion shimmering there. Her eyes caught on something and she smiled grimly.

"There is one thing I can do, though . . ." She pulled out her acquired knife and sliced through the rope bindings that had cruelly cut into the woman's wrists.. "If you can, try and get away. If not, just pretend you're unconscious if they come in. I'll come back . . . I promise."

"Thank you." Her soft raspy voice broke on the last word, and the soft sobs resumed. Annie hugged herself tightly and caught herself as she swayed and almost dropped suddenly.

She struggled to stem the dizziness as she stood there, willing the pain back to a bearable level again. _God . . . I could use a little help here. Please keep this poor woman safe until we can get her out of here. And Lord, a little help with that would be great too . . ._

She didn't hear any signs of commotion outside, but figured she would as soon as Larkin came to. She knew she couldn't have a lot of time. She squared her shoulders, sucking in a deep breath at the pain, and slowly eased the door open. No one was there. _Thank God._

She only saw these two rooms and an open door that displayed a toilet and tub, and stairs. She inched towards the stairs, and peeked around the corner to discover the way was clear.

She tried to hurry her sore body down the steps, but her legs felt heavy and her head kept spinning, so she steadied herself and leaned against the wall for support. The bottom of the stairs opened into what must have been a living room, one side going into what looked like a kitchen area, the other narrowing into a hallway.

She moved towards the hallway. She had to find Bobby.

It was a short hall, with three doors. She closed her eyes, hearing a thump from upstairs. Larkin. _God, direct me, please!_ She looked at the doors and felt pulled towards the first one on the right.

There was a lock on the outside of the door, and a deadbolt. She swallowed. Glanced at the other doors, and saw they all had locks on them. She flipped the deadbolt, that part was easy. Just as she was about to cry in frustration over the lock, she frowned and looked at it closer.

She reached a hand out tentatively and twisted the knob. It wasn't locked . . . She hurried inside the door and closed it behind her, closing her eyes for a moment to stop the room from spinning. When she opened her eyes she took a minute to adjust to the darkness. Then, carefully, she studied the room.

It took her just a moment to find the form on his side against the wall. She bit her lip, wishing for some light. But that would be a sure way to attract fast attention to this room, and she really couldn't take that chance. They would likely be here soon enough.

Instead she inched closer, and then finally felt along the wall until she was beside the figure. The head lifted up sharply as she stepped closer. They sat up, backing into the wall and she realized who it was.

"Andy?" She reached over to pull the cloth bag from her friend's face, wincing at the bruise she could just make out covering a huge portion of his face. She tried to pull the gag away, frowning when it wouldn't budge. She pulled out the trusty knife again and carefully slid it under the fabric, cutting it carefully.

"Annie . . ." His voice was raspy and he sounded almost strangled as he tried to speak. She looked him over, realizing that his arms were tied behind him then. She moved behind him to try and cut his bonds.

But a noise right outside the door halted her movements and brought terrified eyes up to meet Andy's. She swallowed convulsively. And in the split second it took for the doorknob to start turning, she made a decision.

"Andy . . ." She watched the door carefully, while at the same time carefully slipping the knife into Andy's hands. She met his eyes, nodded while he shook his head at her, and then moved back. Pain stilled her movements and she closed her eyes against it. "I'll put this back on, and if you lay on your side, they'll think you're still out . . ."

He was still shaking his head, obviously not able to talk yet. And he wasn't going along with her plan. She frowned. She pulled the cloth bag over his face, leaving it loose enough for him to hopefully get off easily. He still hadn't moved. She pushed as hard as she could to get him to go to his side. "Andy, this is the only way. They're almost here. Get loose . . ." She gulped and remembered her most important goal. "Find Bobby, Andy. Larkin wants to . . . hurt . . . him. Then get help. It will work. It has to . . ._Dear Lord help it work_ . . ."

Time was slipping away. She could hear someone fumbling slowly with the doorknob, heard the commotion from upstairs that she had known would be coming.

She stood, swaying, and made her way towards the door. But everything finally caught up with her, and the terror of the moment rose up to meet her. As the door opened fully, she felt her vision sway and pitched forward.

* * *

He caught the girl as she fell forward, frowning.

George didn't miss that the sheet was the only thing covering her. He eased her to his arms, sparing a glance for the other prisoner in the room.

He looked like he was still out, though.

His attention returned to the limp form in his arms. She was small, but she packed a hell of a wallop. He grinned softly down on her. Judging from the bloody nose on Larkin's furious face, she had gotten him good before making her escape.

If only . . . but no.

He couldn't help but feel bad for his role in this whole scheme. But the money was too great to resist. And it wasn't like he was a saint. He'd killed men before, many times in fact.

The whole reason Larkin had found him before was because he had a bit of a reputation. But that was among the big boys, not the kids and girls. He'd never hurt a woman before. And found himself loathe to give this one back to the man upstairs.

He was no idiot. He knew what kind of retribution Larkin would have in mind. This one here was his prize, and he was furious that she'd tried to get away.

He'd tried to tell Larkin. They had taken too many at once without adequate reinforcements. Never mind that one was a kid and one was a girl, somehow they were just a handful between the lot of them. But there was no telling Larkin anything of the kind. He had a plan, and didn't want to hear anything that ran contrary to it.

George shook his head, wincing as he spied the shoulder wound on the girl in his arms. He lifted her slight form easily, pausing at the doorway to view the big form. As he was shifting her, Carl came in looking rushed and panicked. He relaxed when he saw the girl.

"Oh good, you found her. It's bad enough we can't find the others, but if she had gotten clean away . . ." He didn't have to finish that thought. They both knew how volatile Larkin's temper had been. "Get her back upstairs. Larkin's there. What about this one . . . she didn't help him any did she?"

"I don't think so, she was out when I came in." George partially lied; who knew how long she was there, but no sense in getting Carl going. As it was, the man still walked purposely over to the body on the floor, viciously kicking the man's head.

"Well, he had any bright ideas, he don't now . . ." Carl turned back, a grin over his features."Go on, get her upstairs. I'm going back out to look for the other two."

George nodded to him as he passed, then shifted the girl in his arms again and went through the door. Carl took care of the door, locking it securely behind them.

* * *

Andy was out only minutes. The darkness jarred him for a moment. Then the last few minutes came back.

The cool metal of the knife Annie had placed in his hands felt heavy and awkward. He rotated the blade and carefully placed it against the rope around his wrists. He started sawing through the course rope, clenching his eyes shut against reality until the frayed ends fell open.

In one movement, he sat up and then reached stiff arms to peel the bag from his head.

His head fell into his hands almost of its own volition, and silent tears wet his hands. But he didn't care.

_Lord, how is this part of your plan? Why?_ Annie had been bloody and beaten. _And God, she only had a sheet on! _What the hell had they been doing to her? He shook his head. _God, this isn't fair!_

But what about their faith was supposed to be fair? What happened to Jesus certainly wasn't fair. All the arguments came forward in his mind. As a pastor, he knew all the right words to say. Since he hid in the library at the church, he didn't often have to use them. But he still knew them.

He had always thought his faith was stronger than this. But this was new. He'd exorcized demons, fought a few on their way to hell. But pure evil from a regular person. He shook his head wearily. Larkin was as evil as many of those demons he had sent packing. Could his possession . . .

He didn't know. And it didn't matter at this point. He remembered what Larkin had told him before: he was planning on summoning another demon.

And Annie . . . His thoughts kept coming back to her. Annie had known that they would catch her again, he had seen the look of resignation in her eyes. And acceptance. He had heard her enter, though he hadn't known it was her then. He had stiffened, unknowing what to expect. He could never have been prepared for Annie's face appearing in front of his.

And then, he had felt like he was going to get sick when he saw her, got a really good look at her. She had been so obviously abused, and was unsteady. And then she had realized someone was coming and decided on a course of action that he would never have agreed with.

Somehow not eating for a couple days, repeated blows to his head, and whatever else, had combined to make coherent thought, and movement, impossible.

He had been so weak, had suddenly felt like the world was spinning around him. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and he had wanted to speak desperately, to tell her not to do it, to just stay and . . . what?

He knew there wasn't a whole lot more they could do, but he had struggled to remain conscious anyway, fervently wishing he could somehow fight.

He'd known a minute later when Annie fell; could tell also that someone caught her. The silence right after that unnerved him, and then he had heard the men speaking. So the other two - maybe Sam and Bobby - they had escaped. Maybe Dean - he didn't know what had happened to the older man. Whoever had escaped, they weren't in the clear yet. But at least they were free for now.

He sighed, lifted his eyes. The tears tickled his face as they ran down, dropping soundlessly to wet his shirt. Weary, he looked at the knife Annie had given him. She had sacrificed herself, really, to make sure he had a chance. He had to take it.

He was free, from his bonds anyway. He had to find a way to make this work. Easing his tall frame slowly up to standing, he leaned against the wall to stem the dizziness. He had to do this. He had to try.

_Lord, give me strength. Please. Help me out here. _

He looked around his room, inspected it. There were no windows, only the door. When he reached the door – he knew it was locked before he ever tried turning the knob. What now?

He'd wait. Like he had much of a choice. They were bound to come back in at some point. Maybe he could jump them, and get away. At least make a good effort. He taught karate after all. To kids, he reminded himself with a sigh. But still.

He situated himself behind the door, leaning back against the wall. And with a determined sigh, he settled in to wait.

He couldn't help but feel a little shame. He had been about broken before Annie had made it to him. She had stayed strong, while he had about given up. He had admired her for a long time, this was just another reason why.

He shook his head.

Lost in his thoughts, he was startled a few minutes later by a noise above him. What the . . . _Annie_?

Was she singing?

No way. He strained to listen even as he dismissed the sound as some kind of fluke. But he still heard it her singing . . . like she had a solo in the church choir. What was going on up there?

Her faith was obviously steady . . . again he shook his head. Shamed once more, he turned determined eyes heavenward. _Lord, I know she's been through hell. How she can sing . . . now, I don't know. But if her faith can stay that strong, I . . . I know mine can too._ He dropped his head into his hands soundlessly. The singing stopped for a moment, then started again briefly before a dull flesh on flesh sound was heard. His eyes burned as he looked toward the sound.

_Lord, I'm so sorry . . . when my faith should have been the strongest I was questioning you instead. Forgive me Lord, help me get out of here. Help me get her out of here . . . Help us all. Oh, dear Lord, please help us all. _

The minutes silently crept by as he whispered silently. The calm in the room was still, reverent. With a soft sigh, he continued to whisper, and the words wrapped around him, protecting his fragile soul with a strength not his own. His spirit calmed, and strengthened; he steadily whispered on.

Underneath the words, a soft, single thought was focused and growing. He was going to get out of here. And, God help him, there would be hell to pay when he did.

He just hoped that was part of God's plan, as his whispering stopped and he thought about his goal. He nodded. He felt peace, calm - he was sure of this goal. He was going to have to fight like never before.

_Just remember not all fighting is done with your fists, holy one. Much fighting is done with words. They carry great power as well. And with faith behind them, the power is magnified. _

He looked around. Where did that come from? He felt a chill and looked around. Nothing.

_You are protected, pastor. Keep your faith close to you. Whatever happens, know that God is with you. _

Again he looked around. God? Who? Still nothing shared the room with him. Instead, a steady pressure grew in his head and he winced. Bringing the palm of his hand up to return pressure on his temple, he slid down the wall. Blinding light caused him to flinch even though his eyes were clenched shut.

The pain faded and he watched.

A picture was forming in his mind.

Oblivious to the outside world, he struggled to make sense of what was in front of his mind's eye. He shook his head, repelled yet still drawn to study the image closer.

Eyes still shut, he leaned forward, as if that would unconsciously bring the images closer into view.

_Dear Lord, what is this?_

The thought echoed in his mind as the vision burned itself into his memory.

* * *

She came to with a harsh slap to her face. Looking around her slowly, she saw she was once again back in her room. She felt the comforting weight of the sheet against her, thankful for the slight protection it offered. Then she raised her eyes up to meet cold blue ones.

She grinned at his swollen nose, which earned her another slap. But she was in so much pain, it didn't matter anymore. He pushed her slightly as he moved to sit directly in front of her, his face inches from hers.

She reached up to push him back, finding that her wrists were again bound together. No matter, she pushed hard with both hands, dislodging him and sending him backwards with a grunt.

She stared at him, waiting for his retribution. Her weakness was annoying, and she found herself blinking to stem the wave of nausea that assailed her, and the blinding headache that came with it.

She attempted to focus on his face, but it swam in front of her even while it came closer. She flinched as he roughly grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back.

Until now, it had been a battle of wills.

But now, his strength won out as he forced her backwards. She was beaten, but she wasn't broken yet. She struck out with her knees, satisfied to feel the solid impact. Then she grunted as he punched her hard in the stomach. She opened her eyes as he relieved some of the pull on her hair.

"You think you could get away that easily? You should know better, Annie. You're mine. And I'm not giving you up that easily." His cold words hit her in the face. She shook her head.

"You're pathetic, Larkin. I'll get away again. I know the others aren't dead . . . I can feel it." The strong words were whispered as her body buckled under the abuse. She was fading, her strength ebbing away. She shook her head and stared into the calculating eyes of her enemy. _God help me I should have hurt him with the knife when I had the chance._

"I don't think so." His face appeared in front of hers as he pulled her limp body to lay on the bed.. She swallowed thickly and tried to remember to be brave here. _Oh, God . . . help me. I'm about out of steam. And I failed. Lord. You gave me the chance and I blew it. I didn't get away._

A tear escaped and she rose her eyes to once again meet Larkin's. He was busy attaching her bound wrists to another rope that lead to who knew where. She was tired of this. Tired of fighting, of struggling, of this.

_Fight, child. However you can. You fight. I am with you._

The words caused her to look around, until her eyes settled on a familiar face. Her friend was here. Unknown to Larkin, who was obviously preparing to do … something.

She smiled, causing Larkin to stop whatever he was doing out of her line of sight. She felt it when he stilled; flinched as his face again came into view.

"What are you smiling at?" He grinned at her, making her skin crawl. "Maybe you're starting to have a little fun here, huh? Or just going crazy, maybe."

He shrugged and once again moved out of her line of sight.

She licked her lips, looked again at her guardian. He smiled at her gently and nodded at her. His wings rippled slightly behind him, his fists clenched at his sides. She took in the sight of him, drinking in the goodness.

"It doesn't matter what you do to me, you'll never break me . . ." She felt his movements pause, then start again. "And I know, for sure now, that you lied about killing everyone. I know Andy's not dead."

"Not yet." The two words were spoken with the barely controlled fury that Annie recognized. She didn't care how mad he got. Or how bad that threat hurt.

"You're pathetic Larkin." She repeated her earlier words with a lucidity that was starting to fade. "My angel even thinks you're pathetic."

She looked over to see her friend nodding with that same gentle grin on his face. She smiled at him, so grateful he was still with her.

"Your angel? Gonna start mumbling about how awesome God is and all that now? Doesn't look like He's all that great - can't save you from evil 'ol me." He leaned over her, grinning at her. She felt him tugging at her precious sheet and her eyes flew again to her angel. But he wasn't there.

She whimpered.

_I am here child. I am right here._

She looked up, and saw the gentle features of her friend instead. She blinked and felt the small pull of her smile. Her spirit swelled and she pushed the fear and revulsion aside.

"I _could _go on about God … he is pretty awesome. You don't mind, right?" She couldn't believe the sarcasm in her voice. But she knew she'd hit a nerve when his face appeared in front of hers again. Except that her angel was there, and Larkin's features were muted behind the angel's transparency.

Larkin slapped her. Then moved away again.

"You should just shut up. Make it easier on yourself, girl." He sounded almost frustrated. Annie couldn't help but hope her newfound attitude had something to do with it.

"But I wanted to tell you about Bobby's favorite song. You know he's tight with God too, right? But . . . uh . . . his favorite song is a great one. I think you'd really like it." She stumbled briefly when his weight settled on top of her. But she wasn't going to go down that easily. Her body didn't have a choice, but not her mind. She giggled inanely to herself. Maybe she was finally going bonkers.

"I think it'd do you good to hear it. It's Awesome God . . . ever hear of it?" She didn't get an answer, not that she expected one. Manically giggling for a moment, she stopped and smiled at her special friend. Nodding at him, she opened her mouth.

"Our Go-od . . . is an awesome God . . ." Hm. A bit off-key. She put more oomph into it and squeaked out the words in a halting soprano, skipping the first verse and instead going into a rousing version of the second.

Larkin had paused by now, and she could feel the anger radiating off him. And the frustration.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did that take away from the mood?" Again with the sarcasm. She stared at her friend and wondered when she had grown a spine. Probably when she went over the deep end, went mental, turned bonkers, whatever.

_Stay strong, little one. Your faith strengthens you. _

She grinned slightly at him, still feeling as though she was fading. Her eyes were so heavy. She thought about it a moment. And grinned behind another manic giggle. The answering smile on the heavenly being's face was breathtaking. She swallowed thickly, then spoke again.

"I know, you could use something more enthusiastic . . . I've always liked this one . . ." Without skipping a beat, she moved into the first verse. She worked diligently to ignore the punches raining across her body. And as she sang on, she blinked away the horror of the … rest.

"Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war . . . " The punching stopped, the hands roughly moving across her skin now instead. She closed her eyes against the outside world. "… leads against the foe; Forward into battle see his banners go!"

The first verse was all that crossed her lips as a sharp pain across her temple tossed her into darkness. But the rest of the verses stayed with her inside, strengthening her still.

And as the words faded away from her mind, she couldn't see anything. The darkness crowded around her, but it didn't touch her. She was safe, and here she would rest. A slight grin rested on her face as everything, and all awareness, faded into nothingness.


	16. Ch 15 Clued In

**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**:PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language,violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture)hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**:I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**: Dean searches for clues while Sam and Bobby's reprieve is short-lived. Andy figures something out.

* * *

_**Chapter 15 – Clued In**_

"G' Afternoon, ma'm. My name's Dean Richards and I think you might be able to help me." Said with a wink and a suggestive look that he made look easy, the woman didn't stand a chance. He looked up at her with a full on charming smile. "I'm a private investigator. And I wondered if we could speak . . . privately . . . for a moment?"

She didn't ask to see ID. He even had the bikini inspector ID ready to go. And Sam thought he only made one for him. _Smirk_. All in the attitude, he thought as he sauntered behind the sweet manager.

She glanced back over her shoulder, obviously a little nervous. As they walked into a small office behind the clang and sizzle of the grill area, she turned to face him with a shy grin as she tucked an errant blond hair behind her ear.

She was cute. Dean grinned at her easily, working into his little speech. But she beat him to the punch.

"I hope you don't mind, but do you have some kind of ID?" Well, what do you know . . . he smiled to hide his surprise and slight unease. Why did he have to grab the bikini inspector badge again? The one time for them to look and he grabbed the joke ID. He pulled it out with authority, placing his fingers over the appropriate parts and flashing it just long enough before hastily putting it away.

She relaxed and motioned for him to sit. She sat as well, and then leaned forward.

"So, Mr Richards. What can I do to help you?"

He turned on the charm, like always. And of course it worked.

He, or rather Mr. Richards, private investigator extra ordinaire, very charmingly convinced the sweet little McDonald's shift manager that it was vitally important to view the videotape from two days ago.

The McDonald's sat on the corner, just a few doors down from the small diner that Andy had been heading to that day before he was nabbed. When he had surveyed the establishments there a bit earlier, that was the obvious choice for ownership of the camera in question.

She fell for it fairly easily and Dean had his first chance at a real break. He sat to watch the tape in a small manager's office, begging privacy – "for the sake of his client, you understand?"

He watched as Andy was surprised. He found himself cheering inwardly as he fought. And even though he knew the outcome, he flinched as he saw him beaten and wished he could hear what was being said.

He leaned closer as they loaded the big man into the van. He paused the tape, studying the part he had truly hoped to see: the license plate number.

He gathered his notes and hastily crossed to open the office door, thanking the girl as he passed. His focus was single-minded as soon as he had the information he needed and he ignored the girl's crushed face as he hurried past her and on his way.

That had been a while ago and led him to his current situation: Stake out.

One hour passed uneventfully. The second hour he tried to just relax, still watching vigilantly. But by the third hour, he was just grateful he was in the relative comfort of the Impala, 'cause this was beyond boring.

He'd tracked the license plate to a George Cox. Interestingly enough, the van had only been leased a few days ago. A phone call using officer Freeley's badge number (sorry for yanking your badge there, dude) had netted the needed address. And here he sat.

It was his best lead, and at the three-hour mark he was beginning to wonder if he'd figured wrong. His chest and back were killing him. And he didn't dare take any pain medicine just in case he needed to be sharp.

_Man._

Finally, after four hours - about the time he was starting to doubt his sanity - he saw the van. It pulled in and the bulky man driving looked familiar. He stayed slouched in his seat, but his eyes were taking it all in. Not that there was much to take in.

The man pulled up and walked in his house as if he was on a mission. A mere twenty minutes later, and he was leaving with a duffle bag. Here was his chance. Hopefully, he could just follow the man on to where Larkin was holed up.

As if everything could be that easy. He started the car and pulled into traffic after the man was a block ahead. He followed the man through town, staying back just far enough to hopefully not be spotted. When the speed quickened and the driving turned slightly more erratic, he hit the steering wheel.

Then he winced and patted it lovingly, pressing on the gas at the same time.

"Sorry baby."

His gaze narrowed in, and he could tell he'd been spotted. Shit! He pushed the Impala harder, trying to stay up with the man, who was now weaving through city streets with a mission. He was close enough . . . just two vehicles up.

He pushed it through a yellow light, keeping the van firmly in sight. Hands steady and gaze hardened, he snaked in and around vehicles and was rewarded as he finally inched a little closer to the van.

He turned a corner, tires squealing, as the van turned down an alley. Cool. He was closer now, within feet. And then with a surge of speed the van pulled ahead and out of nowhere a dump truck backed into his path. Damn!

He squealed to a stop, hitting his chest hard against the steering wheel. The pain flared intensely and the rebound reaction threw his sore back into the hard seat. The world faded to black as the pain flared to an unmanageable level. His body hung to the side, face against the window's cool glass.

The sounds of the city were a dull blur against the grayish haze that held him. He struggled to control the pain, breathing in a harsh breath and wincing. He pulled himself free of the blur of near-unconsciousness.

He looked around wildly. Eyes flicked from side to side and he tried desperately to look around the stupid dump truck, which was still partially blocking the alley. Nothing. The alley was clear ahead.

Shit, shit, shit!

Now what?

That was his only lead and it had peeled away. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a palm against his eyes. Okay, he needed another plan. What?

Maybe he could go back to the Carver house, find something there?

Maybe he could sneak back into Larkin's house - the one he, Andy and Annie had surveyed before. There might be something there that could help him.

But he was running out of time. He could feel it. And he needed to get there, wherever there was. It was late afternoon - he glanced at the red digits on the dash - 4:18 p.m.

_Oh come on! God, just cut me a break here, would you? Please! Come on! Mikey? A little help here would be great!_

He closed his eyes against the impending panic and rested his head against the steering wheel. As he opened his eyes, his gaze rested on the passenger floorboard.

Okay, he'd go back to Larkin's and hope he could find something. But he needed the address. He thought he caught sight of his notes on the floorboard. Reaching over, painfully, to nab the notes spread over the passenger floorboard, he saw the edge of a file folder sticking out from under the seat. What the . . .

He pulled the papers, and the folder, and rested them in his lap while he glanced through them. Address, address. Where would an address be hiding?

Suddenly his hands stilled. No way. His eyes peered upwards and with a wink and a nod of thanks he pulled the file folder out of the pile and opened it fully.

A full grin lit his features as he viewed the contents, flicking quickly through the pages inside before finally studying one in depth.

_Thank you Mikey! Or your boss? Whatever . . ._

* * *

He woke with a start, shivering. The bright light seeped through cracks scattered around the small building. He looked down to find Bobby's sleeping form against his side, his head resting on Sam's arm.

Illuminated in a shaft of bright sunlight, the small face seemed almost angelic, his dark lashes in stark contrast to the pale skin. He studied the child's face. Then looked his little body over carefully. He couldn't believe it, but he seemed to be in okay shape. A few extra bruises, some scratches. A little pale maybe. But overall, the little guy looked good.

Relieved, he leaned back, resting his head on the mound of straw under him. Blinking, he raised a hand to pull at something tickling the side of his head. What the . . . it was the blanket he was sure he had put under Bobby. And it was damp. He looked over at the little guy. _What had he been up to?_

Shivering, he pulled the rest of the blanket forward, folding the damp section over, and spreading the rest over the two of them.

Didn't offer much, but at least it was something. He wasn't sure how long they had slept. Shivering still under the thin blanket, he blinked his eyes, opened, and closed his mouth a couple times, trying to relieve the cotton feeling on his tongue. Ugh.

Remembering the water, he got up unsteadily and walked toward the water bucket. They could use more water, both of them. Pushing back the pain in his ribs as he lifted the bucket, he tried to control the swaying that followed. He awkwardly walked the few steps over and finally set down the bucket, falling softly beside Bobby in the straw. Whew!

The dizziness was a bit overwhelming, so he closed his eyes against the rush as the room swam around him. When it finally passed, he took a moment to look down at his chest. The slice across was shallow. But it was red, puffy, and hot to the touch. Crap.

He grabbed the blanket and tore off a bit of the damp section. He was about to dip it in the water, until he thought better of it and poured a little of the water on it, and his hands. He was already cozying up to a nasty infection. He had to do whatever he could to stop it from getting worse.

He wiped his hands against each other and then flicked them both, trying to shake off the dirt and moisture as much as possible. Then he partially wrung out the frayed section of blanket. He pressed on the injury, wincing as pus oozed out of it. Gross. He pushed against the cut, gritting his teeth against the pain, until no more pus escaped. Then he used the bit of fabric to wipe around the edges of the wound. He used his hand to cup a little more water and rinsed it as well as he could with the water. With no first aid supplies at all, it was the best he could do for now.

He blinked his eyes and shook his head slightly; that little bit of effort caused a heavy feeling of exhaustion to wash over him. Man, they'd never get out of here at this rate.

A slight movement behind him brought his eyes around to see Bobby shifting, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks until they opened completely. Dark eyes closed in on Sam immediately. And then he smiled, and his eyes shifted. But they fell on the wound on Sam's chest and he sat up quickly, scrambling closer to study the nasty cut.

"Sam-mie hur'." Statement. Whispered. When he lifted his eyes to meet Sam's for just a fraction of a second, a tear escaped from the corner of his eye. His eyes looked so sad and wounded that Sam figured the little guy's empathy chip was in overdrive. He sighed.

"It's okay, Bobby. Just a nasty cut. It'll get better, buddy." He watched as the small face relaxed. He grinned at the little guy and swiped his hair, earning him a glare. He grinned wider.

Bobby stilled, thinking seriously for several minutes, then turned his head in Sam's direction.

"Sam-mie say spe'al wors'?" Sounding like a mimic from the last time they were kidnapped, Bobby looked up at him with serious eyes. "Sam-mie nee' say spe'al wors."

He was a little taken back, Bobby seemed so serious. Just a second, he had spoken clearly before, hadn't he? What was the deal with his language? Must be harder for him to speak more clearly.

"Okay, little guy. We'll practice together, okay?" Bobby's quick nod was his only response, and again Sam shook his head. This kid was something else. It was like that flipped a switch with the little guy. The boy nodded to himself, whispering almost silently for a moment.

"La'n. Spec'l wor's." Bobby said softly. "Oratio, Psalmus et exorcismus." Softly spoken again: Prayer, Psalm and Exorcism.

When they had been kidnapped before, they had memorized an entire section of the Rituale Romanum's (Roman Ritual) exorcism, adapting it to make it shorter and including only one of each of the Prayers, Psalms and then the main exorcism text. It helped that Bobby had it all memorized already. But Sam, well . . . what could he say in his defense? He wasn't an autistic savant who could memorize entire books at whim. And he'd been a little preoccupied in the few days since their first kidnapping, so he was rusty on the details of the ritual now.

It didn't matter as much, though. They hopefully had a little time to brush up on memorizing it. Well, he hopefully had time to. Bobby was already the expert.

"Wanna use all the same stuff? Psalm 53 and the same prayer and exorcism part?" Bobby nodded his head slowly. Sam studied him. The boy looked tired, with circles under his eyes and a pallor to his skin that was starting to concern him. "Take a drink of water first, okay?"

He watched the boy lean over, carefully cradling some water in his hands before drinking the water. He wiped the spilled drops from the corner of his mouth, frayed shirtsleeve trailing. He took another drink, and then another. After about his fifth drink, Sam stopped him.

"Take a break or your tummy'll get sore, okay?" He waited for the little guy's nod and then pulled him a little closer to him, conforming his small body into his side. He was fairly surprised when Bobby didn't fight the motion and instead leaned into him further, resting his head against the side of his chest and following the movement with a soft sigh.

"Psalmus quinquaginta et tres." Psalm 53. Their eyes met for a second.. "'S shor' (it's short)." That little squirt had a twinkle in his eye, and Sam _knew_ he was remembering the last time they did this. He started first with the prayer. "Oratio? Oremus. Deus, et Pater Fomini nostri jesu Chrisi, invoco nomen sanctum tuum, et clementiam tuam supplex"

They fell into a familiar pattern, repeating the Prayer, going back and forth. After a dozen times, Bobby stopped and cocked his head to the side. He smiled a gentle smile. As if he was repeating what they had done the last time, he started in with the verses from Psalm.

"Psalmus? Psalmus quinquaginta et tres" Bobby paused again. "Deus, in nominee tuo salvum me fac: et in virtute tua judica me..." Sam looked at Bobby and grinned. He had paused for Sam to repeat. And he obliged.

"Deus, in nominee tuo salvum me fac: et in virtute tua judica me..." Sam's intonation was close to Bobby's. Their soft words didn't carry far, but created a sense of peace within their little world as they were spoken.

"Exorcismus?" Bobby questioned softly: Exorcism? "Exorcizo te. Immundissime spiritus. Omnis incursio adversarii, omne phantasma, omnis legio, in nominee Domini nostri Jesu Christi" They murmured the words back and forth with careful pronunciations.

The late afternoon sun was piercing the small area with shafts of light here and there by the time they had finished. They had both taken several breaks to take drinks of water. When the bucket dropped further, Sam started taking sips instead of full drinks. He wanted to make sure Bobby drank enough.

As they finished, Sam considered their options.

His thoughts shifted suddenly as an uneasy feeling washed over him. Something wasn't right. It wasn't a vision, but something didn't feel right. He found it harder to link his thoughts together, and the world seemed to come to a standstill. He could feel the strange sensation of saliva running from his mouth. But it was like he had surrendered control of his body. He couldn't do anything about it.

He couldn't even swallow.

He felt as his body started to fold, and he fell backwards with a soft sigh as breath was expelled from the impact. His eyes drifted shut and awareness left with an image of Bobby closing in to peer at his face.

* * *

What happened? Why was Sammy lying down like that?

He leaned over to watch as his friend's eyes closed. Why was Sammy going to sleep now?

He was taking little breaths and his arm was doing something weird. It was moving. It just kept moving up and down. He watched it. Up and down. He grabbed it, but he wasn't strong enough to make it stop.

And now, Sam's whole body was shaking.

The wet was in his eyes again.

He was scared.

"Sam-mie?" No answer. He pushed at his chest and tried again. "Sam-mie!"

Nothing.

_God. Help. What I do?_

No answer.

He looked from one side of the room to another. It smelled. His eyes had wet in them and his cheeks were wet now too. He studied Sam again. This time he almost screamed. Almost.

He leaned down to rest his head on Sammy's chest. He didn't feel anything move. When he looked at his face, his lips looked like a new color. He poked Sammy's lips. He pushed his chest. He hit his chest once and couldn't help the sound he made then.

"Sorry Sam-mie."

He hoped he didn't hurt him. Did he make something hurt on Sam? He looked at the top of the room, and the wet was falling off his face now. _What should he do?_ He bit his lip.

He could go for help. Maybe he could find Annie or Dean. He nodded. He could do that.

He pushed Sam's chest one more time, just in case. Nothing. Okay. _God. I so scared. _

With that thought, he ran over to and out the door of the small building.

* * *

George was walking the grounds, and had been for the last half hour. He'd finally decided that were he to escape from in the middle of nowhere he would stay close-by and look for a means of transportation. So he started looking closer to the outbuildings of the farm.

The three of them had already scoured the barn itself already, so he didn't worry about that. Instead, he closed in on the back pen behind the barn, and the chicken coop and other small buildings that littered the area there.

His heart was still racing from his close call earlier. Someone had followed him from his house. He was sure he'd seen the sleek car before. But he couldn't place it. At least he was able to lose them.

He wasn't _about_ to tell Larkin about it, even while he knew he probably should. There were only three of them instead of the original five for a reason. Two had made stupid mistakes that could have led the police to them. He didn't much feel like a bullet to his head anytime soon.

He was just rounding the corner of the small building behind the barn when a movement caught his eye.

The boy.

George watched as the child barreled out of the building. He stepped in the little one's path and was elated when he ran right into him. Well, this certainly made his job easier. But as he lifted the boy up, he could see that something was wrong.

Aside from the boy pushing at him and growling - which was weird enough - the little guy had tears running down his face and looked terrified.

He suddenly stilled and looked into George's eyes. He blinked, because the intensity behind those brown eyes was shocking. The fast gibberish that came from the child's mouth was concerning him a little. What was going on? He found himself worried for him.

Why? He had no clue.

"Sa' hur'. Hep' Sam-mie. You hep'. Now! You hep', Sam-mie no brea', no brea'." He could almost make sense of the child's words, but he was talking so fast they about ran together and he was shaking his head in confusion.

"You have to slow down, I can't understand you. You hear me? Slow down!" He couldn't help the small shake to accentuate the point. He also couldn't help his racing heart as the boy's terrified eyes again lifted to meet his. And he couldn't help that he actually cared what the child was trying to say. He was only human. Even if he was a killer.

Those brown eyes pierced him again, and he couldn't help but gasp at their intensity once again. What was it about this kid? The little guy took a deep breath, holding his gaze.

"Sam-mie hurt." He said the two words carefully and studied him.

"Sammy? The tall guy? What's wrong?" Okay, great. Looked like he might find both of the escapees. The child blinked. He was trembling and George couldn't stop himself from pulling him a little closer. He pushed against his chest, but finally he raised his eyes once again and stared him down.

"Sam-mie no breaf." He stared at him, seeming to will him to understand. Breaf? Breaf? What was that supposed to . . . and suddenly he understood.

"Show me where he is, little man. I can help him." He ignored the small tendril of doubt in the bottom of his stomach and set the kid down, racing after him into the small chicken coop.

When George first looked at the man on the ground, he decided Larkin was gonna be pissed. He had especially wanted this one alive until the ceremony tonight.

His old military training took over as he studied the pale body, blue lips. He dropped to his knees and felt for a pulse. None. He leaned over to check for any breath sounds or chest movement. Nothing.

His own pulse pounding, he moved slightly over so his ear rested directly over the heart. And _there_ he heard it. A very sluggish heart beat. The fine trembling in the young man's body told him the rest. He had probably had another seizure, causing him to stop breathing. He remembered earlier, the day before. He had come out of the seizure okay that time.

Okay, so CPR.

He bent over and started counting while breathing. 1, 2, 3 . . . 1, 2, 3 . . . 1, 2, 3 . . . Moving in between counts to either breath or deflate the man's chest, he was gratified when the chest suddenly rose of it's own volition maybe a minute later. A deep shuddering breath followed. And then the rapid in and out of post-stress breathing. He would be okay. For now.

He sighed. He really hated this. He had saved the guy's life . . . for what? So he could be killed a little later? Why should he even care? He was mad at himself, at the reaction and the emotions. Taking a walkie talkie from his back pocket, he brusquely informed the others that he had found the two who had escaped.

He was just getting soft.

Because there was no way in _hell_ he could care whether these guys lived or died.

No way.

* * *

Andy's head flew up as a sudden noise outside the room registered. It was muffled, and maybe down the hallway, but moving closer. Footsteps.

He readied himself behind the door and tensed, as prepared as he could be. _Be with me Lord. Please be with me._

Time seemed to move in slow motion as the sound of the lock clicking registered. The man who stepped through was thinking of other things, or something. He didn't even react to Andy's presence until his fist was slamming into the man's cheek.

It wasn't enough to drop him though. Andy shifted into a defensive stance and blocked an awkward punch. With a slight shift to his right foot, he threw his weight and kicked his left leg solidly up and around to connect with the guy's mid-section.

It was enough to make the man stagger, but it didn't drop him completely. He sluggishly made to rise, but Andy didn't want to let go of the slight edge he had. He brought his fist straight forward in a hard jab, again to the man's mid-section, but this time connecting higher up, hopefully bruising his ribs.

As the man tried to connect a sluggish jab of his own, Andy blocked and then connected a sharp chop to the side of the man's neck, just behind the ear. He finally dropped.

He drug his limp form into the room, tying and gagging him effectively with the remnants of his own gag, then patted the man down. He was able to relieve the man of two knives and one small pistol. The pistol he slid into the back waistband of his jeans. He hated guns.

He crossed to the doorway and glanced first one way and then the other down the hallway. All clear. Great. A staticky sound suddenly brought his attention back to the room. And to the man trussed up there. He walked back over to the guy carefully, and saw what was making the noise.

He had missed it under the fold of the man's shirt. A walkie-talkie. The static ceased, and a muffled voice came across the speaker.

"I found the two who escaped. Awaiting directions. Over."

Nothing further came across the small speaker, and Andy stared at it, frustrated. He pulled it free from under the still unconscious man.

He knew where he had heard Annie's voice before. It was above and to the right of the room he had been held in. He slowly crept down the hallway, slowing to study the living room before zeroing in the stairs and his goal.

No one.

Good.

He paused to listen intently, making sure he heard nothing from the room on the opposite side of this one. It looked like the kitchen. When he was convinced no one was waiting in there, he crossed swiftly to the stairs and glanced up quickly. Seeing no one and hearing no movement, he started up the stairs, keeping close to the wall and looking back several times to ensure no one was following him.

Once he was finally up the stairs, he glanced around. He counted two doorways and one open door that revealed the toilet and sink of a restroom.

Trying to center himself and visualize where his room was at downstairs in relation to where he was currently, he decided finally on the one directly to the side and across from the stairway.

He crossed the hallway and listened intently, his ear pressed firmly to the door. He eased the door open, holding his breath until he could adjust to darkened room. His breath came in a deep shudder as he accepted the reality that faced him there.

Dun, dun, dun ... Happy Supernatural Night!! A new episode even! YAY!

* * *


	17. Ch 16 Facing Fears

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 16 – Facing Fears  
**Author: **Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to _Nightmare_  
**Warnings:** PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary:** Andy finds a surprise and faces some fears. Sam faces Bobby and a wounded Annie.  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to **Look Into His Eyes**. Please read through my author's notes Here (from first chapter) and Here (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) if you need more information, explanations, etc.

_**Chapter 16 – Facing Fears**_

Nothing.

Well, nothing but a bloody bed, literally. The sheet on the bed was bloody. Saturated. He crossed to look on the other side of the bed, but Annie wasn't hiding over there either.

Man!

He looked out in the hallway. He was sure she had been in this room, based on where he heard her voice before. But maybe she was in the other room. He glanced back over his shoulder at the blood-stained sheets, shivering, before concentrating his attention outside the door.

Taking time to check carefully for unwelcome 'friends,' he crossed the hallway to stand before the other door. He took a deep, bracing, breath and opened the door carefully.

_Oh my dear Lord!_

He crossed the room swiftly to the small huddled form on the floor. He knew within a couple feet it wasn't Annie. But he couldn't stop himself from reaching tentatively out to grab the shoulder.

The woman reacted with a gasp and a sob, frantically dragging herself backwards until she was backed into the wall. Her frantic eyes closed in on the door and flicked over Andy briefly before staring again at the door.

"No! Please . . . no more . ." She would have said more but Andy stopped her. He couldn't help the tears that gathered in his eyes. This poor woman.

"No, honey, it's okay. I'm not here to hurt you. I promise." He looked into her face and waited for his words to register. But her eyes turned to him, wide, and he sighed. "Please. I promise. Look, see . . . I've been hurt too. I got free though. I just want to help."

She finally relaxed, fractionally.

"Did you find the other girl? She was here . . . I think she might have gotten caught though . . ." Her confused eyes wandered again to the door. But he was reeling.

"Annie? You saw Annie? When? How long ago?" She stared back at him and he tried, for her sake, to stem the desperation he knew must show in his face.

"I'm not sure. But it was a while ago. She said she was going to go for help. She wanted me to go too, but my ankle's broken." She looked down at the swollen ankle before glancing up at Andy. Her eyes were a shimmering pool of blue. And as a tear broke free he recognized a haunted look to her gaze that broke his heart. He swallowed deeply. _What to say, Lord? What do I do?_

He looked at her. He could carry her easily, but where to? He was pretty sure no one was currently in the house now, and his fear for Annie, and everyone else, filled him with desperation.

"One of them came in already. I did what she told me to, I pretended I was still out. And he left." She looked at him. Something in her face changed, like a new resolve broke through. "I heard them, at least two of them, maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago. They were saying something about just putting them all in the barn."

She shuddered suddenly.

"One of them said he wanted them in the same place for the ceremony?" She looked at him a little hopefully, but very confused.

So that was why the guy had been coming to get him. And why Annie was gone. Larkin was getting everyone to the barn in preparations for his . . . plans. Andy felt a chill pass over him. Oh God, this was bigger than just an evil man spinning out of control. _Help me Lord. Give me strength. Give all of us strength. Oh, Lord. _

He hung his head for a moment, raising it to the studious gaze of the girl before him. He noticed she was only huddled in a thin blanket and moved to take off his top shirt. He had a t-shirt on underneath. Unbuttoning it with shaking fingers, and trying desperately to ignore the reality of what the poor girl had more than likely endured, he finally tugged the shirt free and pulled it off with a shrug.

"Here. It's not much but it will help cover you up a little bit, at least." He wasn't prepared for the tears and soft sobs. A little uncomfortable, he patted her back. "Come on, we're going to get out of here . . . and you'll be okay. Okay?"

"Thank you." The soft words broke his heart and he dropped his head. The emotions radiating from the woman were overwhelming.

But they didn't have time for this. He straightened his shoulders and locked his jaw, taking a deep breath in at the same time. Determined, he gazed at the woman in front of him and considered his next move.

"Okay - we need to find a place for you to hide. Outside of the house, hopefully. I need to look around a little first. Find a safe spot for you. Okay?" She nodded hesitantly, and watched him with frightened eyes as he stood to walk the short few steps to the door. A sudden thought made him turn around again. "If someone comes back before me, just do what she told you to again, okay?"

Her nod was quick, but her haunted eyes were burned into his mind as he turned, determined, to leave the room once again.

* * *

Something was different.

Sluggishly, slowly, Sam commanded his eyes to open. They didn't want to comply. After a few moments of prodding, his eyes slowly cracked open to reveal a blurry room. He blinked his eyes several times and the room started to come into focus. Only it really wasn't a room.

It was a cell.

Of sorts.

It looked like a cell had been fashioned out of an old, larger, horse stall. He moved his head gingerly to look around more carefully. He couldn't move his arms or his legs. And as he worked his sore jaw muscles, he decided he was getting really tired of being gagged all the time. And tied up.

He looked up and around, trying to figure out how a cell had been fashioned out of the space. But his curiosity would have to wait. 'Cause it hurt way too much to look up like that.

His eyes shifted downwards and as he took in the floor of the space, he saw two more bundled figures across the stall from him. It was only a few feet away, but with his body feeling so heavy it might as well have been a hundred feet.

The last thing he remembered was feeling weird as he and Bobby had finished reciting their ritual. Bobby! Where was the little guy? He turned his head again, trying to focus on the others a few feet away. They were both smaller, and one was about the right size to be Bobby.

He grunted with the effort as he pushed his sore muscles to respond. No dice. This was the same way he'd felt after his last few seizures, and he couldn't help but think that must have been what happened. The slight noise he'd caused must have registered with the smallest of the other two forms. It rolled over, and Sam was relieved to see that it was, in fact, Bobby.

He was furious to see a huge bruise forming along the boy's jaw-line. And the tears coursing down his cheeks broke his heart. Poor little guy. Damn! He hated this helplessness.

If nothing else, though, seeing Bobby that way broke through a small measure of his body's defenses and he felt a surge of awareness once again in the muscles throughout his sore body. He rolled to the side, sitting up awkwardly, slowly.

Bobby stopped sobbing and looked at him, as if really seeing him for the first time. His determination to move wavered for a moment, as he was finally able to see the other figure clearly.

Annie.

And she wasn't moving at all. His anger grew as he comprehended what he was looking at. She had a sheet wrapped around her and . . . and he felt like he was going to be sick.

He swallowed back the bile and forced himself to look away and meet the gaze of Bobby.

He saw way too much understanding in the soft brown eyes. They looked lost. And afraid. Then he blinked, and Bobby's eyes had shifted. With determination, he took in their cell again. Nothing. Nothing at all that he could see to get them free. Okay, at least, maybe, he could work his arms around front. Stupid long legs.

It look a lot of grunting, several cramps, and reopening the wound on his chest with the effort. But after several minutes he was able to get his arms under his behind and legs, bringing them thankfully in front of him. He reached up and clawed at the stupid gag. _Did they have to tie the thing so tight?_

Another minute and he was free of the gag and scooting across the floor to Bobby. The fast movements were making him dizzy, but he didn't stop until he was beside the shaking boy.

"Bobby? Hey there, little guy . . ." He waited a moment, holding his breath, until Bobby looked up to steadily meet his eyes. He blinked against the intensity of the gaze. He soon had Bobby free of his gag and was working on the ropes binding the little guy's wrists when a groan from Annie swung his gaze that way.

But she didn't wake, her body barely shifted and then she was still again.

He looked again down on Bobby, finally ripping the last of the ropes free from his wrists. He wasn't surprised when Bobby's small form flew into him a moment later, dissolving into loud, wracking sobs and violent rocking motions. He maneuvered his bound hands over his head and pulled him close.

Bobby not only let him, he burrowed deeper. He was speaking now, his breath hot against Sam's chest as his muffled words escaped. Sam could barely make them out.

"Annie hur'. Annie hur' ba'." He repeated the words over and over again, sobbing as the broken words softly sounded around the sobs. He was shaking his head, small body trembling and still rocking violently into Sam's chest.

Sam's own eyes burned as Bobby's emotions washed over him like a force unto itself. Looking at Annie over the top of Bobby's shaking head, he couldn't help the silent tears as they broke free, running down his face to mix with the soft brown hair now nestled under his chin.

He pulled Bobby closer, as if he could shift a little of his steadiness to the frightened child. Except he didn't feel too steady right now. In fact, he'd give anything to see Dean burst through that door right now. He drew in a steadying breath, starting to rock with Bobby.

After several minutes of rocking, the trembling finally started to subside. Bobby's sobs quieted and his breathing slowed. He occasionally still whispered his sister's name. Sam clenched his eyes shut, willing the little guy out of this mess with a mangled prayer. As Bobby's body relaxed into him fully, he leaned down to look a little closer as he slept.

He was barefoot, his feet bearing small scrapes and smudges of caked on dirt. He had a shirt on, for whatever it was worth. It was sliced through the front and frayed around the sleeve's cuffs. It and his jeans were dirty. The small face was peaceful, with dried tear stains and more dirty smudges. And that nasty bruise on the jaw. Sam clenched his own jaw in anger. He took in the other bruises and the tender looking area around the boy's right temple. His hair was a mess of tangles and he awkwardly, tenderly wiped the bangs from Bobby's forehead.

This little guy did not deserve this. He couldn't help the surge of protectiveness as he gathered the slight form even closer. He was reluctant to set the child down, but as he looked over at Annie he found himself needing the assurance that she was okay. She was so still.

He scooted a little closer to her and struggled with his bound hands to gently lay Bobby's sleeping form on the floor, trying to arrange him on his side as best he could. He sighed and turned to Annie. Still scooting, he navigated to just beside her.

She was on her side, but laying so that her shoulder and torso fell forward to almost touch the floor. He took in the numerous cuts along her arm and his gaze narrowed. Some of them were fairly deep, with dried blood crusted around the edges. He reddened slightly when he realized suddenly that the sheet she was wrapped in was truly all she was wearing.

Taken aback slightly, he breathed in and out, trying to contain his emotions. Didn't really help. So help him, if he got hold of Larkin, he'd have no problem showing that bastard some pain of his own.

He took hold of her shoulder, meaning to rotate her so she was on her back. He wanted to make sure none of her cuts were too deep. But her cry of pain stopped him short. He peered into her face, and found himself meeting her deep brown eyes. The fear there was a shadow, pushed to the side as she tried to scramble backwards. She saw him, but not really.

"Annie. Annie . . . it's me . . . Sam . . . Annie. Hey . . ." He watched as she tried to wake up the rest of the way from whatever nightmare she had been living. Her eyes widened as she took in Sam in front of her and really saw him. She snorted a little as a sob coursed through her and she saw to the side where her brother lay. She caught her breath, reaching for him. But her bound arms threw her off balance and she started to fall forward instead.

Sam caught her awkwardly with a forearm and eased her up to sitting. He took in her pale skin, wincing as he made out too many bruises to count on her face. She closed her eyes, seeming to try and gather strength, and then she met his eyes. They pierced him. The emotion there was unreadable but raw and he couldn't help his reaction.

He first reached over, stilling as she winced, and pulled the gag free. It was tight, but eventually he loosened it enough to pull down past her chin. Then he reached out to grasp her bound hands and started trying to awkwardly undo the knots holding the ropes tight. Several minutes later he was just undoing the last one and the ropes finally fell silently away.

"Bobby." Her voice was raspy, just more than a whisper really. Sam moved over a little so she'd have a better view of her brother, then offered a forearm. She leaned on it, scooting over a little at a time until she was beside her brother. She looked at Sam after studying him for a moment.

"He's just sleeping now." He had read the unspoken question in her eyes. The tears cascading down her face unnerved him. He studied her a little closer, eyes wandering to her shoulder and a large splash of red there. His breath caught.

"Annie, I need to look at that shoulder. It's still bleeding." She looked down absently to look at the wound and then seemed to remember her circumstances. She pulled her knees up with a sob, wrapping her arms around them. He wasn't sure exactly what she had gone through, but he had an idea. He gentled his voice. "It's okay. Just let me look at it and see if I can stop the bleeding, ok?"

She looked at him and her countenance made him blink. She was still trembling, and tears still ran down her cheeks. But the steely determination in her eyes showed him some depth of inner strength.

She nodded, and he moved closer, trying to place himself at an angle so he could apply pressure to the wound.

"I'm sorry, Annie. I know this is going to hurt." He wanted to tell he was sorry for everything she had been through, but found the words wouldn't come. He didn't know how to make them. She sighed wearily and granted him a small grin. It didn't reach her eyes though.

He peeled away the small hand towel that was stuck to the wound, frowning as he got a closer look at it. It was a stab wound. Deep. And it looked like the knife had twisted either while inside her or on the way out. A deep gash of 3-4 inches long was still slowly leaking blood.

"That bastard." He whispered the words softly to himself, but the tension he felt in Annie's shoulder told him she had heard. "Okay, this is deeper than I thought. I've got to put a lot of pressure on it. See if I can stop this bleeding."

"Just . . . do it. I'm . . . okay." She was not okay, but Sam didn't have a choice. He needed to stop that bleeding.

"Okay. Just . . . hold on." He folded the hand towel over on itself, trying to find a section not already bloodstained. He finally gave up and settled for a section that wasn't soaked. "Here goes."

He bit his lip as he placed it over the wound, pressing down hard. He used both hands to awkwardly apply as much pressure as possible. It was hard to do, with her situated in front of him, and he couldn't get that much leverage. Unfortunately the pain must have still been intense, because a moment later Annie's limp form fell back with a soft sigh.

He was able to direct her fall so that her head and neck were across his thigh. But somehow in the process the tenuous binding holding the sheet fell free and it shifted to the side. He shifted his eyes, but not before seeing more bruising and stab wounds, along with shallow cuts. She was out, so he shifted his embarrassment aside to make sure none of the wounds hiding under there needed attention. Well, as far under there as he was willing to go, anyway.

His face burned as he slid the sheet to expose her torso, careful to avoid pulling it too far in either direction. Satisfied that no serious cuts hid under the sheet, he pulled it to cover her more fully. He tucked a little end into the top of the sheet.

He sighed as he looked at her, knowing that he still needed to tend that shoulder. Now, while she was still out, would be the best time. He was sure of that. So with the momentum he pushed down on the towel over her wound once again. He looked away as a tear ran free.

Several minutes later he was panting from the effort, and he tentatively lifted the corner of the towel up to sigh with satisfaction. The bleeding was stopping. The wound was starting to clot. He let his hands fall away, exhausted.

He couldn't stop the fists from forming.

Annie had been beaten. She'd been stabbed. She'd been carved up more than a freakin' turkey. And in his condition, he wasn't positive of his ability to protect her and Bobby.

Man, he wished Dean was here.

* * *

Andy had found what he hoped would be a good hiding place for the girl. He crept through the house and out the kitchen door, thankful that the house still seemed empty and apparently no one had discovered the man he had left in his place.

Just outside the house beyond the kitchen door, he saw what once would have passed for a child's playhouse. It looked abandoned and was barely discernable under the debris and growth of shrubbery and weeds. It was small, but just about the right size for a person to hide. He scouted it out, satisfied with his choice when he saw inside of the solid structure. Maybe he could find a blanket to cushion the floor for her.

He hurried back through the kitchen and up the stairs. And just a few minutes later, he had been able to collect a blanket and several sheets from a nearby closet shelf. He wrapped the blanket around the girl and rested the sheets on top of her, hoisting her up gently to carry her because of the broken ankle.

He listened intently before making his way to the safe spot. He was careful and stepped as quietly as possible. But by the time they made it the short distance to the little building, his already sore muscles were crying for release. He set her down gently and helped her spread the sheets on the floor. He watched as she situated herself more comfortably before he crouched by the small door, studying the landscape to the side of the house.

The early evening sun was almost down below the horizon. He wasn't sure what time that made it, but the crispness of a late spring evening spoke of it being maybe 7 or so. He had no clue how much time he had lost earlier. But time was running out.

He stepped out carefully, deciding he really needed scout out how many men there were total around here. He was torn. Because what he most wanted to do was make sure the others were okay and really all in the barn. But he had to be cautious. He had to know how many men he might be dealing with.

He stood right outside the door, studying the side yard, knowing the barn was just out of sight on the other side of the house. He looked back at the girl, nodding at her, before turning once again to step away from the building.

But before he could move beyond the shadow of the little building, he was hit with a sudden need to pray. He didn't want to crowd the woman inside, so he hid himself in the undergrowth and closed his eyes.

_Lord, I need some guidance here. And I really need some help. It's getting later and I know Larkin is planning on trying to have his ceremony tonight. Please be with me Lord. I just . . . I'm not sure what to do anymore. I feel so out of my league here. Please, Lord._

And suddenly, he was no longer alone. In a flash of brilliance, a figure stood before him. Andy moved to kneel, but a hand to his shoulder stopped him. Looking at the hand, which was huge and heavy on his shoulder, and seemingly shimmering, Andy followed the arm it was connected to, until he could not help but meet the eyes of his heavenly guest.

* * *

Reelaiah searched the eyes of the man before him.

This holy one was chosen for this task. He had faltered earlier, but now Reelaiah could only see determination and faith in those eyes. He smiled gently at the pastor.

"Sacrifices will be made, Pastor. Why do you ignore the knowledge you have been given?" He searched the stricken gaze of the man, understanding immediately clear. "Your vision has purpose. You must use it."

"What purpose is there in watching a child die?" Andy said the words angrily. The angel knew as the thoughts flew through the pastor's mind that his thoughts weren't viewing the vision as it needed to be seen.

"You must study the details, Andrew. The vision is what is to come, and you must work to avoid it. The child is key." Andy stared at him surprise.

"I can't . . . I won't consider him dying that way. That can't be part of God's plan." Andy stared at him with fury in his eyes. Reelaiah probed the thoughts running through the holy man's head. He had watched earlier, from behind the veil, as the holy one had struggled in the moments following the vision. He understood and accepted the rage radiating from the man. The vision must be examined, however. He was here to make it so.

"You must use what you have been given, pastor. You have been given a gift. Heaven awaits your understanding. Use the details from your vision. All Evil cannot be fought the same. Where words and swords fail, however, faith can succeed. Have faith in what you have been given. Use it."

"But faith isn't always enough, is it?" The haunted eyes staring at him broke the angel's heart. It pained him to sense the truth in the pastor's words.

"Sometimes God's plans do not align with those of men." The angel studied the holy man, awaiting recognition. He saw it then, his wings fluttered behind him in anticipation. "You understand, do you not?"

"I"m being given a chance to change what is to happen. To bring it in line with God's will?" The holy one watched him closely. "And it isn't God's will for Bobby to die?"

"No. The little one is special. He is the key."

* * *

Andy watched in near disbelief as the angel disappeared from view as suddenly as he had appeared. And he sighed. He did NOT want to relive this vision. It had seared him, scared him. He couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to Bobby. And this . . .

He closed his eyes and turned his mind's eye back to the moments in time captured within his vision. He saw them, as a series of snapshots in his mind, and reeled once more from the horror of it.

_The view centered first on the boy. He was tied down to a low table, an alter of some kind. Hands and wrists were lashed tightly and he was gagged. His wild eyes roved frantically around the room until they found his sister._

_Annie sat limply with her arms drawn behind her. Her furious gaze belied the weakness of her body as she shouted around her gag at the man in front of her brother. Her eyes burned._

_Across the room a furious Sam was pulling frantically against the ropes that bound him to a similar table as Bobby's. He was gagged as well, but his eyes were burning as he strained against his bonds._

_Attention flew once again to the small boy on the table. He had stilled, and was watching the man in front of him with understanding dawning in his eyes._

_The boy watched as the long dagger drew up in the air, coming down swiftly to impale his heart. His brown eyes remained open, looking up as a lone tear running free._

Pulled from the horror of the vision, Andy's breath caught again. The expression on Bobby's face at the end would be seared into his soul forever. He shook his head, silent tears running down his cheeks. He had to stop this. He had to.

God help him, he had to stop that boy from being sacrificed.


	18. Ch 17 Realizations

**Title/Chapter**: Ancient Words - Ch. 17 - Realizations  
**Author**: Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**: Andy finds a surprise and faces some fears. Sam faces Bobby and a wounded Annie.  
**Author's** **Notes**: A bonus for CBloom and supernatfem76 - who have been consistent and enthusiastic reviewers. Thanks a bunch, guys. And anyone else out reading who hasn't commented yet - let me know what you're thinking! I'd love to know!

_**Chapter 17 - Realizations**_

Looking at the map in his hands in disgust, Dean threw it into the passenger seat.

Finding the road he was looking for had been infuriating him for over an hour now. He felt like he was looking for a needle in a haystack. And the stupid map didn't list all the streets like any decent map should. He rubbed a hand through his cruddy hair, thinking this was why Sammy always did the maps.

He looked back over at the file folder that started this street hunt.

The near run-in with the dump truck had caused it to slide free from underneath the seat. Dean had completely forgotten that they had grabbed the file in the first place. The files they had pulled from Larkin's house days before had been shoved under the seat, forgotten, when they had found Sam and Bobby.

They listed properties Larkin had to pay taxes on, two of which they already knew about: his own house and the cabin he had used before. But another property was listed that they had missed before. It was on a separate piece of paper, having been acquired months before.

An old farmhouse outside of the town.

It was perfect.

It had to be the place. It had to be.

Only problem was, he would never find it at this rate. He stared at the map, frustrated. It stared back at him from the other seat, mocking him. He sighed.

Opening the door with a groan, he prepared to do what no man should ever have to.

He went to ask for directions.

Five minutes later, he was heading back toward the Impala. He stopped short as he neared the car, however. There was someone in the passenger seat. He stalked over to the door, wrenching it open and preparing to deal not-so-nicely with whoever had dared sit in Sam's seat.

"What the he . . ." His voice trailed off as he recognized the passenger and he stood up fully, arms crossed. "I hope you don't think you're taking my car over, dude."

Dean settled into the driver's seat and glanced over at his angelic passenger; Studied him until those gray, fathomless, eyes turned back on him.

"I don't really care what your game is, I just want to get to my brother and the others as fast as I can." This was said as he started the engine. Mikey shut his door with a soft click and met Dean's eyes fully. Intense. Piercing. And suddenly Dean felt almost naked - And not in a good way.

"You must reach them quickly." _Well, duh._ Dean looked at the angel like he had grown two heads. The expression faded from his face as he took in the intensity of the being's gaze. "The time for sacrifice grows near. You must be in place to protect them all."

_Sacrifice?_

Well, shit. That just sounded bad. Really bad. Dean stared at the angel's stone-faced expression in shock, and then put the car in gear, tearing out of the small station.

According to the helpful clerk, the road he was looking for veered off from the main road on the other end of town, about twenty miles. But the address showed that the farm he was looking for was at least another ten miles or so down that road.

If he was lucky, he'd make it within a half hour. He glanced over at the angel, who was staring intently at him with a slight pull to one corner of his mouth.

"Luck has nothing to do with this, hunter." His grim words just made Dean step on the pedal harder, pushing his black beast even faster.

When he next glanced over to the seat beside him, it was empty.

"Angels. There is no way Sammy is ever gonna believe this." He shook his head as the irony punched him in the gut. He'd have to have a chance to tell him first.

* * *

Sam looked over at Bobby and Annie and sighed. He'd attended to both of them. And in the process still hadn't gotten his own wrists free.

Now he was stuck using his teeth to try dislodging the impossibly tight rope. Usually, a little rope wasn't an issue. But he'd scoured their cell intently looking for anything he could saw through the ropes with. And come up empty.

He looked at the tight bonds with frustration. And went back to flexing his wrists, trying to work a little give into the ropes. A sudden noise behind him stopped his movements and he cocked his head, listening intently.

He spun awkwardly to face the door of their prison when he heard a shuffling sign that signified moving feet. He pushed himself around, and over, until he was in between the door and the other two in the cell. Looking up he found himself being studied intently.

He glared at the man.

The guy's impassive face did nothing but infuriate him more. But Sam didn't want to say anything that might anger the man. His position was abundantly clear, as he looked up to the man and the gun he was holding loosely with one hand.

He thought he imagined a look of gentleness cross over the big man's features as his gaze passed over both Annie and Bobby. His eyes lingered on Bobby, and Sam couldn't help the protective need that arose in him. It wasn't even right that the asshole could look at Bobby.

"Make you feel good beating up a women and kid?" He spoke through clenched teeth, unable to stem his fury as the man just studied them all, impassively.

"I didn't . . ." The man cut off his own statement and glared at Sam. "You don't need to be talking, boy. I'm the one that saved your life."

That took Sam by surprise. Huh? The man must have registered his confusion.

"The little guy came running out 'cause you weren't breathing." Sam hung his head. Man. It had been his fault they had been caught again. Stupid freakin' seizures. "Was about ready to check the building out again anyway."

The man offered the last statement quietly, then turned away, about to walk away.

"Wait . . ." Sam waited for the man to turn back around. "You're George, aren't you. I remember hearing your name before." A cautious nod. "Thank you. But . . . why?"

"Larkin wants you alive. For now." The man's voice hardened and Sam figured it was now or never.

"Could you get some water or something for us? Something that can cover her." He inclined his head towards Annie, catching the way the man's gaze shifted down and shoulders slouched slightly. Whatever else the man was, he was uncomfortable about what was happening, at least to Annie and Bobby.

The man walked away without answering and Sam started flexing his wrists again. He thought about it, wondering what Larkin's plans really were. He glanced over at Bobby and Annie and hated the helplessness that overwhelmed him.

He needed to help them.

His hands fisted of their own volition and he threw himself into trying to get the ropes off. He suddenly found small hands on his. He looked up, into a small pale face.

"Bobby hep'. Bobby hep' Sam-mie." He sounded serious, except for the slight tremor in his voice. The small fingers slipped into the small holes made as the ropes overlapped each other, and soon Bobby was starting to ease one of the ropes up slightly. Sam watched him.

The boy bit his lip in concentration as he stared intently at the ropes, and moved his little fingers deftly over and around them. Soon, though, he was stopping every minute or two to rub his chaffed fingertips against his mouth. Absentmindedly kissing his own little fingers lightly and then rubbing them over the fragmented remains of his shirt. Sam had to finally pull his wrists away, afraid that Bobby might actually rub his fingers too raw trying to help him. He offered the boy a grin.

"It's tough rope, kiddo. But you helped a lot. You really did." Bobby had looked crestfallen until Sam added the praise, his bruised face brightening slightly when Sam added the words. As if to accentuate his point, the ropes gave as he started flexing his hands again.

A few minutes later, he was back to pulling at the ropes with his teeth, it was so close. Almost there. He sighed in relief as the ropes fell away and immediately started rubbing his chaffed wrists, grinning at Bobby slightly.

"See there kiddo. Without your help I wouldn't have gotten those off. Thanks, buddy." Bobby offered him a slight grin and a secondary glimpse of his deep eyes, then swiftly turned around and started toward his sister. Sam stood, swaying and on shaky legs, and stretched carefully. He whipped around again at a noise behind him.

George again.

He opened the cell with the clang of keys and stepped inside. He pointed a gun steadily at Sam, and motioned him closer with the gun.

"Here, put this over the girl, give them the water and get back over here." Sam studied him, but reached out for the items, going over to place the blanket gently over Annie's still sleeping form. He handed a bottle of water to Bobby after cracking the seal on it and placed the other two bottles near Annie on the floor.

He turned to face George, glanced at Bobby once more, and then walked over to the older man. He tensed when the gun rose, placing his hands up submissively.

"You need to come with me." Sam narrowed his eyes, assessing the man in front of him, but the steady gun trumped all thoughts of taking on the big guy and he sighed, walking slowly towards the door. A sudden weight wrapped around his leg almost brought him to his knees. Bobby.

Apparently he had been carefully watching the exchange and his fury was now directed at George.

"You ba' ma'. No go Sam-mie. No go! Peas!" He directed his first words to George and sobbed as he desperately clawed and wrapped himself around Sam's leg. Sam met George's eyes with raised eyebrows and a small nod toward Bobby, silently asking permission to address the little guy. George nodded, still steadily pointing the gun.

But before Sam could disengage Bobby's arms and legs to crouch down, a soft voice stopped Bobby's frantic cries.

"Bobby." Annie. Sam watched as she carefully reached out towards her brother, wincing as the pain hit her. Bobby stilled all movements, turning his head to consider his sister. "Honey, come sit . . .with. . .me."

The effort to speak hit her and winded, she panted for a moment before she tried to sit up more fully. She looked almost ready to pass out. Bobby looked up at Sam, biting his lip. Tears streaked down his dirty face, leaving wet trails of sadness behind. Then he looked again at his sister and slowly disengaged his body from Sam's leg.

He started to walk toward his sister then stopped suddenly, and with speed ran over to George, pounding his little fists against the man's leg frantically.

"No! No! No! No!" His one word litany might have gone on indefinitely, except that Sam stepped forward. He reached for Bobby, and as he made contact the little guy stopped yelling . His eyes seared Sam's once again, then flicked away. "Sam-mie." One word, and then he turned and walked dejectedly back to his sister, who gathered him close despite her small gasp of pain.

"Come on, kid." George opened the door, motioning Sam through the door. Bobby's soft sobs broke his heart as they followed him down the hallway.

* * *

George was rethinking his involvement in all this crap.

It was one thing to kill another man. Cold blooded, but he could do that. But the girl and the little boy especially. He was having a hard time with that. This kid, too. There was something about him. Kind of reminded him of his kid brother. He had his orders, though. And he also knew Larkin would have no qualms about putting a bullet through his head, if he were to catch him.

The kid moved in front of him slowly. George weighed his options. And he came up short. There was no way he could help right now without getting caught. Jabbing the gun into the young man's back he propelled him through the doors.

* * *

Coming into what must have once been a main part of the barn, Sam's mouth hung open. Instead of hay, or straw or whatever else was supposed to be in a barn, he was looking at a huge room with candles and symbols on the floor and on tapestries hanging on the walls. In the center of the room stood two tables, one small and to the side a much larger one. Both were low to the ground.

Sam stopped walking, not really caring as the gun poked him painfully in the back.

He looked from one table to the other. They both had symbols on them. He thought they looked familiar, but couldn't figure out where he'd seen them before. He etched them into his memory, trying to remember.

And the symbols, around the room . . . they looked familiar. Some of them were the same and suddenly Sam recognized at least that one: it was a sigil. But he couldn't remember which demon had been associated with this particular sigil. So Larkin was wanting to summon a specific demon. Not a huge surprise, but looking around Sam was not comforted by the level of preparations the man had gone to.

"You need to get on the larger table, kid." Sam tensed. Like hell. He wouldn't meekly climb up to be a willing participant in a demon summoning ritual. Making a sudden decision, he whirled quickly on George, grabbing the gun hand and ramming the forearm above it into his knee. The gun spun away and Sam shifted into a defensive stance, eying George warily.

George wasn't looking too concerned though. He eyed Sam lazily, barely shifting his own weight in preparation.

"That was a mistake kid." Just as he shifted his feet into a more defensive position, Sam realized he'd overlooked an important detail. There were others in the room with them. Unseen, behind him as they were, stuck in the shadows. But his instincts were on overdrive as he felt them come nearer.

He backed up, inadvertently right into the table he was trying to avoid. George pounced as he righted himself against the cool surface of the table behind him, pushing him backwards and onto the table.

Sam wasn't done fighting, though, and threw a punch that landed hard across George's right jaw. The big man grunted, but didn't shift his weight. George looked up, over Sam's head as Sam felt his left hand dragged backwards. He tried to buck George off him, but he was situated firmly and would not budge. He drew a leg up awkwardly behind George's back, landing a glancing blow to the man's shoulder. But all that did was push him into Sam's chest, forcing the breath out with a sharp pain there. The audible cracking sound didn't bode well.

His left arm was now attached to the table with something heavy and course. Rope. Again. Attached underneath this table somewhere. Not good.

Sam stared at George as he panted painfully. This really sucked.

George didn't ease his weight, and another man came into his peripheral vision as his right wrist was grabbed and pulled, despite his attempts to pull away. That wrist as well was wrapped and tied to the table with the course rope, tightly.

At this point, George finally eased up and off the table, leaving Sam to glare after him. He lifted his head, pulling against the ropes as the big man stepped over and back until he was at the foot of the table. He was joined by another man. Before Sam could blink, each man had captured one of his ankles, binding them also to the table with course rope. Man, he was so sick of rope.

He stared at the men. They stared back for just a moment. He saw a flicker of something pass over George's eyes as he met them briefly. And then they walked out of the room.

Sam fell back on the table with a sigh. This was so not good.

Looking around at the sigil that was replicated all over room, he frowned. He had seen that before. He knew it.

He didn't have long to ponder it, as soon another walked into the chamber, footsteps echoing dully. They entered from behind him, so he couldn't see him until he was just to the side of him. He craned his neck up and around to meet the piercing blue eyes.

He really hated this man.

He'd stared at the man as he grinned, before he walked over to the far wall, lighting several more candles in a pattern there. Then he glanced over at Sam and came forward with a sneer on his face.

"I have everything in place. And it won't be long now. Are you ready?" By now he close to Sam's right arm and he leaned over, close to Sam's face, whispering. "Soon you will die. My new master will appreciate the very special sacrifice and meal I have planned for him, I'm sure."

"I'm really not much of a sacrifice. Too much of a geek. Just ask my brother." He silently added: _Come on Dean, you can show up anytime_.

"Oh, Sammy, you won't be a sacrifice so much as a meal." Sam's eyes flew to meet his. What? "I read it. He'll be able to feed from you, grow stronger. Because of your powers he'll grow stronger still."

Sam stared at him. The man had gone mad. He looked away. But the man's next comment had him straining at his bonds.

"No, the real sacrifice will be the most innocent. The little one. He's perfect." Larkin almost shuddered as he spoke. "I'll sacrifice him within the summoning circle. His innocence will show Asmodai how dedicated I truly am."

He stopped straining at his bonds - it was useless anyway. Instead, he glared at the man in front of him.

"You're an asshole and a coward, you know that? Trying to summon a demon and you have to use a little kid as bait. Didn't you read Demons for Dummies?" His voice shook with anger. There was no way he wanted that prick to know how badly he'd shaken him. "You don't have to have a sacrifice to summon a demon."

"You know nothing, boy! The sacrifice isn't to summon Asmodai, it's to show my dedication to him, and to allow him to stay with us for a while." Larkin laughed darkly. He leaned even closer, his breath hot upon Sam's face as he whispered. "The boy's sacrifice is a gift for my master. As are you."

Sam's eyes grew wide, and at Larkin's light laughter he decided enough was enough. With only a glare for warning, he shoved his head forward as fast as he could, connecting with what looked like an already sore nose on Larkin's disgusting face. He howled. Sam smiled. And then he showed Sam something with a sickening smile even as his nose dripped blood.

"You and your knives, Larkin. You know, you're really boring me." Sam looked away, hoping he looked a lot more sarcastic then he felt right now.

"I wonder, how much would it take to make you scream?" Larkin studied him coldly, considering. And, lightning fast, he reached up with the knife. Before Sam could react, he'd sliced his cheek. It was a flesh wound. Probably wouldn't even leave a scar. But he sure had Sam's attention now. He could feel the slight tickle of blood against his cheekbone.

"Hell, I've scratched myself worse than that." He couldn't help himself. The attitude was an easy response to Larkin's predatory smile and gleaming eyes.

The man's smile deepened and the knife was almost caressed within his hands as he looked from the silver object and back over again to Sam. Almost lazily, he reached over with the knife and traced an unknown design on Sam's chest.

"Pain is relative, Sam. I wonder . . ." He met Sam's eyes and then looked intently at Sam's chest. The sharp sting and slicing pain trailed in a short line on Sam's chest as Larkin pressed the knife through skin. "I wonder if it might hurt more now?"

Breathing deeply against the sudden pain, Sam pushed it away. He focused once again on the man in front of him.

"No? Maybe as we go on then . . ." Over the next several minutes, he sliced carefully on Sam's chest. Concentrating fully on his fun, he didn't bother checking to see if Sam was enjoying his wicked ministrations.

Several cuts into his fun, Sam felt a shift. The lines were different, curved. It almost felt like Larkin was following a pattern of some kind. The intricacy of the design was lost on Sam. By the time Larkin was finished with his design, Sam was breathing deeply and carefully to try and keep the pain at bay. His chest felt like it was on fire. And the pain! It wasn't so bad at first, but the cumulative effect was unnerving in its painfulness.

Larkin ended with a flourish, stabbing the middle of his design with a sneer. By now Sam was starting to lose his fight to keep the pain under control. He felt like he was one mass of pain and hurt.

"There now, Sammy boy. A pretty little symbol to make you stand out for my master, and . . ." He stopped now to probe the middle of Sam's chest, where the pain was the most intense. "A little more pain to pass the time."

He reached up, and then swiftly brought his fist down on the wound, inadvertently also jarring the cracked ribs from Sam's earlier fight. He couldn't help the gasp that escaped.

"Doesn't feel like such a little scratch anymore, does it, boy?" He leaned over, sneering in Sam's face. But by now, Sam was looking up at him through a pain-induced haze, trying desperately not to cry or whimper from the agony.

Larkin brought out a very short knife, its silver gleaming in the flickering lights of the chamber. It was tiny, really. Sam caught sight of it, aware only of the blur of silver in his hazy vision.

"Now, this won't kill you, but it might sting a little . . ." He leaned in close to whisper almost intimately in Sam's ear. Sam followed his movements through heavily lidded eyes as he stepped to the side and brought his small knife up high.

His eyes widened, vision sharpening on the small gleaming knife. Larkin brought it down with swiftness, impaling the center of his design in Sam's chest. Sam's eyes followed the arc of the knife; knew the moment it broke the skin; felt as it remained imbedded within his chest.

Sam screamed. He couldn't help it. Tears of pain and shame at his weakness broke free, rolling down the side of his face. The pain was horrible, and that damn little knife was stuck inside him. He could feel its slight weight as he breathed, panting in his pain.

The world around him tilted and Larkin stepped away from him. Sam almost closed his eyes. A spasm of pain caused him to see black spots. His body just couldn't take much more in it's already weakened state.

"_Dean_."

Oh God, how he wanted his brother.

"You're brother can't be here right now, Sammy boy." Larkin's face again loomed in front of his. He didn't realize he had whispered his brother's name. "He's dead, remember?"

Did he remember that? _No._ Sam weakly shook his head. He was pretty sure he had already determined that Dean had to be alive, somewhere. But where was he?

"He would have been here by now if he had lived. And that bullet wound was bad." Larkin shook his head in mock sympathy, eyes gleaming at Sam's confusion. "Don't you remember? Doesn't matter. I'm afraid you can't make the funeral. You've got a previous engagement."

Sam's eyes grew wide and he struggled weakly, glaring at Larkin. He didn't want to believe him. He had seen Dean shot, and the blood around his brother's body remained a nagging memory. But, the angel before . . . maybe it was all in his mind.

Tears leaked from his eyes as the emotions washed over him.

"Don't worry, Sammy." The blue eyes pierced him as Larkin leaned close to speak just above a whisper. "You'll be joining him soon enough."

Was it true? Could Dean really be dead? Sam's eyes drifted shut with the nagging possibility weighing him down. As blackness pulled him in, he writhed in silent agony.

_Dean!_

Free temporarily from the pain in his body, Sam floated in between awareness and the safety of unconsciousness.

He couldn't handle that out there. The pain was one thing. But his brother? And what Larkin had planned . . .

If Dean was really dead, then how could he hope for rescue here? He was screwed, and royally. He couldn't help Bobby or Annie or himself. Larkin was going to kill them and enjoy doing it in the name of demon love. Sick. Twisted.

"You would allow the evil one this victory so easily then?" The question came from nowhere. Confused, Sam looked at the angelic being standing beside him dumbly.

Angels weren't real, were they?

"We have already established that I and my wings are, in fact, quite real. Have we not?" The being looked remarkably amused for some reason. Sam continued to stare. He finally found his voice.

"What are you doing here?"

"I have come to remind you, hunter. Things are not always as they appear."

"Things? Like angels maybe?" He smirked, and then felt stupid for being sarcastic with his hallucination. "Sorry."

"I am very real, young one. You must believe, and attend to what I say." The being walked closer, a large hand snaking out to lay gently, heavily, upon Sam's shoulder. That felt real enough. Solid. Real. Kind of. He stared.

"Our time is short. The battle is upon us." The angel shimmered and drew up to his full height. Sam couldn't help but be impressed. "Remember you are a part of the whole. The smallest is the key. But you, and your power, along with the power of the other, they are parts of the whole. The holy one, and the other protector will see that you have that chance. You must take it, or all will be lost."

Sam was already trying to pin the angel's vagueness down, to make sense of his words. The holy one had to be Andy. The power of the other: Annie had psychic powers too, so maybe that was her. The smallest was most surely Bobby. Who did that make the protector? Sam's eyes studied the angel as he sought to make the connections.

"My brother?"

"You doubted what was said before. But yes, he is a protector." He studied the heavenly being. He still wasn't entirely convinced. But faced with this or another kind of reality - He'd rather believe in angels than have no hope at all. It would make sense for Dean to be alive - he always cheated death. And of course his brother was the protector . . . whatever that meant. Dean was always the protector. But the angel's next words stopped his train of thought. "As are you."

Sam laughed, the sound echoing in his mind with a craziness that matched his thoughts.

"How the hell am I supposed to protect anyone? In case you haven't noticed I'm a little tied up at the moment, not exactly able to protect anyone." He glared at the angel. The being leaned forward, and down, to rest his face inches from Sam's.

"Protection is not always about strength, little one. Sometimes it can be done with the power of words. Sometimes with the power of the mind." The angel whispered knowingly, his gaze piercing Sam with a blazing intensity. "Believe that it can be, as you believe in your brother, you must also believe in yourself."

Sam stared into the impossibly intense eyes, unflinching.

"I don't have control over my powers." He said it carefully, slowly, just in case the heavenly helper missed the underlying issue. "So how can I possibly use them?"

"Believe, child. And in absence of raw power, use the words." The angel smiled a small smile. "A little faith can go a long way as well."

Sam couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. Faith was not a word the Winchesters used or believed in. Their recent experience with the faith healer had cemented that healthy skepticism. He wasn't sure what he believed in; Could believe in.

"You have seen much evil, how can you not believe that good exists as well?" It was a twist on his own words from long ago. The irony was not lost on him: An angel telling him to believe that "good" exists; what next?

But still, it was something. He looked up at the figure.

The angel stepped back and gathered himself fully, extending shimmering wings to a full width that was breathtaking.

"Our time is done, remember what was said, hunter. Be brave. Be strong. Do not give up." And with that, he was gone. Sam blinked.

* * *

Icy cold permeated his safe zone and he found himself ruthlessly jerked away from his oasis.

His eyes opened blearily, blinking away wetness. A grinning Larkin stood by with yet another dripping bucket. Sam shivered. The cold water had brought a really sucky fact into clear focus.

He hurt really bad. And things really weren't looking too peachy right now.

"We'll have a little company here in a minute, and I wanted you awake for the show." He said it with a sneer and Sam really wished he could hurt the man, badly. Larkin rubbed his slender hands together almost gleefully. "Once everyone is in place, we can begin."

Company?

"Sam-mie!" That was Bobby's voice, echoing from just outside the door. He sounded scared. His gaze narrowed on Larkin's grinning face.

"You son of a bitch! You hurt him and I'll kill you? You hear me?"He spoke low, forcefully, despite the pain any slight movement caused. He would find a way to take care of Larkin, so help him God. He would. "Don't you hurt him!"

He was pulled from glaring at Larkin's still-grinning face as the sounds of scuffling came inside the room. He turned his head to see the small boy straining against large hands. Wresting his small body away, he flung himself across the space toward Sam. He scrambled to the side, eyes wide when he finally saw Sam.

"Sam-mie hur'. No. No." His small head shook back and forth and he pulled his glittering eyes from Sam's chest to meet his eyes. Their eyes locked and unspoken words passed between them.

"I'm okay, Bobby. I'll be fine, kiddo . . ." His whispered words sounded raspy and weak, and he grimaced, quickly covering it with a small smile. "Be brave kiddo. You gotta be brave. And, Bobby . . ."

The small child leaned closer, straining to hear Sam's now small voice.

"Use those special words kiddo. Okay?" The nod was punctuated by Bobby's tears as they fell, littering the table beside Sam.

"Sam-mie?" Bobby was studying him now, biting his lip. He leaned ever closer. "Sam-mie be bra' 'kay? Sam-mie be bra' an' Bobby be bra'."

He nestled his head briefly at the juncture of Sam's neck and shoulder. The soft hair felt impossibly sweet against his neck, and Sam felt tears prick his eyes at the hell this poor boy was going through. He felt the absence before he heard Bobby's soft cry. "No!"

"No!" Sam couldn't help tensing at Bobby's strangled cry. The big man, George, looked at Sam regretfully before tugging the child fully into his arms, the kicking and hitting calmly ignored.

Sam glared at the man as he walked slowly with Bobby over to the other table. His hold tightened for a moment and it looked like he whispered something to the boy, before setting him gently on the smaller table.

The child backed away from the man, looking up at him with a trembling lip. His brown eyes were deep, stricken with fear and something else. His gaze flickered across the room and met Sam's eyes, holding the gaze as a tear slid down his cheek.


	19. Ch 18 The Hunt

**Title/Chapter**: Ancient Words - Ch. 18 "The Hunt"  
**Author**: Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**: The hunt has truly begun. And things are spiraling out of control.

_**Chapter 18 – "The Hunt"**_

Andy crouched to the side of the farmhouse, watching intently as men moved back and forth between the barn and the house. The man he'd tied up during his escape stumbled out of the house earlier, on the heels of another. They kept walking around carrying small items he couldn't identify. Now they were having a heated conversation, but otherwise they didn't seem to be looking around at all.

He frowned. That couldn't be a good thing. What else was commanding their attention? He decided he needed to be closer to make out what was going on. Knowing that Larkin had some type of ceremony planned and remembering again Bobby's frozen face from his earlier vision, he felt a desperate pull to be nearer to where the action obviously was starting to heat up.

But just as he began to creep along the shadows of plants and trees, he was hit with a sudden need to drop. He did so, feeling like an idiot as his hands landed in sticky mud.

He looked out in front of him after staring at the earth for a moment, reacting swiftly when he saw large bare feet in front of his face. How had someone gotten the drop on him? He looked up, eyes wide, and deflated completely when he recognized the features.

He knelt on his knees and waited for some type of greeting.

"You must go back." Andy stared at the heavenly being in disbelief. He needed to go to the barn. Needed to see to Bobby and Annie. Sam and Dean as well. They needed him there. "First you must return."

"But I don't know what is going on in the barn. Larkin could be hurting them as we speak." Andy felt like he needed to make the being understand. He couldn't possibly know what was at risk.

"You believe I do not understand?" The angel raised one eyebrow in an expression of his own. The angelic face looked down with an expression that almost mirrored disappointment. "Pastor, why do you question? He would not lead you astray."

Andy nodded even as his mind screamed. He needed to be with his friends. Why should he go back the way he came? The woman he left there was safe. He had left her maybe only a half hour before. Suddenly the two men he had been watching came to mind. There should have at least been one other man, and Larkin. What if?

The angel nodded as Andy made the connection and stumbled in his haste to turn back toward the small hiding place. He couldn't see it from where he was, though. He glanced back, only to see the heavenly being had disappeared. He'd wonder about his sanity later, though. Right now, he needed to make sure the girl was okay. She was a sitting duck with her broken ankle. He refrained from running like a madman and stayed carefully to the shadows, listening intently and trying to discern if there was a threat. By the time he was within a few feet of the small hiding place, his ears caught the sound of a man talking.

And he didn't sound very friendly.

Andy crept softly, carefully until he was just to the side of the little hideout, within arm's reach of the doorway around the corner. The man he heard was framed within the small doorway, bent over slightly.

" . . . doesn't have a use for you anymore. So I guess it's time to say goodbye." The man's voice was cold and steady. "Or maybe we could have a little fun first."

Andy flinched. The girl's whimper reached his ears about the same time he decided a surprise approach would work best. Regretfully, he pulled his earlier liberated gun free from the waistband of his pants.

Arm steady, he carefully drew and cocked the gun inches from the man's head as he stepped around the corner of the structure in one fluid movement. He saw the man tense and was ready when he whirled backwards.

The man was able to spin away so that the gun no longer pointed at his head, but Andy was still to the side, gun steady in his hand. He moved to frame the doorway, wanting to reassure the woman he was here. He could hear her panicked breathing behind him as he considered the best way to deal with his counterpart.

He saw the gun in the man's hand come up from where it was hidden behind his hip. The man's sneer was disgusting. With no hesitation, Andy produced a mid-level roundhouse kick, aiming and hitting the man's gun-holding wrist. He heard the snap as it broke from the impact of the sharp kick.

He let his full momentum spin him around to face the man again, gun still held loosely in his left hand. He relaxed, letting his muscles fall into a familiar rhythm. The man gazed at him dismissively, lunging forward to knock the gun away. He succeeded, but didn't see the bigger threat as Andy whirled to the side and threw a sharp jab forward, connecting forcefully with the man's chest.

The man stepped back with a grunt, and then tensed as he appraised Andy once again. The pastor waited.

He didn't have to wait long, as the frustrated man threw an ineffectual punch. Andy pulled to the side, taking hold of the man's punch-throwing arm, yanking down and under the man with fierce strength. Pulled forward, the man ended up off balance and followed his arm. He landed on the ground, panting up at Andy in disbelief.

Andy stared at the man for a split second before he whipped his arm sharply forward. His closed fist connected with the man's temple with a dull thud. The man's eyes closed behind the force of the blow, head jerking to the side. Andy quickly pulled his limp form to the side of the building.

He headed back inside the structure to check on the girl.

"Is he . . . did you . . ." She couldn't seem to finish her sentence, her wide eyes and panicked breathing accentuating her terror.

Andy kneeled down in front of her.

"He's out for now. He won't be bothering you. Did he . . . hurt you before I made it?" Her head jerked to the side in a small negative to his question. His gaze on her gentled and he patted her shoulder. "It'll be okay. Hopefully we'll get out of here sometime soon. What was your name?"

"Lori . . . um . . . Lori Waters."

"Well, Lori, you know how to handle a gun?" He waited for her answer, feeling relief at her sharp nod. He'd collected both guns from outside before and handed her one of them. He watched in satisfaction as she flipped the safety off, verifying she knew a little at least. He glanced to the side, eyeing an unused sheet.

"I'm going to tear some strips here so I can tie him up. Then I'll leave him to the side, just underneath all the debris and brush out there. You hear him rouse you be ready with this gun . . . understand?" She nodded, eyes still wide. But at least she seemed a little steadier.

He leaned down, ripping the sheet into thick strips.

"Okay, I've got to head back to the barn. Sit tight." He started toward the door, then stopped and turned. "If I don't come back before morning, and no one else comes to get you, do what you have to and get out of here. It won't be safe." He ducked out of the building once again, turning to the side of the building and his now captured bad guy.

He tied the man's arms behind him and bound his ankles. After considering a moment, he gagged the man as well. Then he slowly covered old ground, moving steadily toward the barn.

_Lord, I could use a little help here. I have no idea what's about to happen but I know I'm going to need a little help. Give me strength, Lord. Let me know what I need to do as the time comes. Amen._

His frantic prayer was only answered by the nightmarish final scene from his vision: the horrifying snapshot of Bobby looking up at death, a single tear falling from his eye.

An answering tear fell from Andy's eye, unfelt, as the mirage in his mind stayed present.

He was missing something from that snapshot. His eyes flew open as it hit him. Something was different about Bobby's face. As that small fact hit him the answer punched him in the gut.

_Oh dear Lord, what are we messing with here? He can't be . . . used like that. He's innocent, Lord. What . . ._

His unspoken prayer halted as he neared the barn. He hid behind a small building to the side of the barn, collecting his thoughts, and his courage.

Because he suddenly knew what "He is the Key" really meant about Bobby. His research from so many days before allowed the pieces to connect in his mind. Provided him with the answers. And the knowledge that washed over him made him sink to his knees in fear.

Fear turned to desperation. And desperation turned to need. Still on the ground, he clasped his hands and pushed the vicious emotions into a single focus.

* * *

He prayed.

He was scared.

This place was scary. He wanted to be brave. He wanted Sammy to be proud of him.

But he was still scared.

_God? Where are you?_

He backed away from the big man. The big man had whispered to him: Told him to not be scared; to be brave; but he was a bad guy.

And he was still scared.

He looked around the room until he saw Sammy. His friend was there. And now, it seemed a little easier. He looked at Sammy and wasn't as scared now. But still some.

The man grabbed one of his hands. He tried to pull it away, but the man wouldn't give it back.

The wet was in his eyes again. And he didn't want it to be. But his hand was stuck to the table now. And even though he pulled, he couldn't get it back.

He just wanted to get it back.

And then the man's hand was heavy on his front. He tried to stay sitting. But the hand was heavy. And he fell back on the table. The wet was in his eyes. On his cheeks. The wet ran down into his ears, his hair. He couldn't get away from it.

It needed to go away. The wet was … not right.

He looked over at the man again. He was hard to see. But Bobby could feel him pulling his other hand. He could feel the nasty rope. It scratched, and it hurt. He blinked, wanting the wet to go away.

He was scared. It was hard to be brave. He was trying. But it was hard.

He wanted to be brave, 'cause Sammy was brave. And Sammy asked. He sniffed, and looked over at Sam again. He was still there.

He wanted to rock. Tried to rock. But his hands were stuck to the table. He made a sound. He couldn't help it. That wasn't loud enough. He needed to be louder.

He didn't want to hear anything else. He didn't want to hear the mean man speaking, or the other mean man whispering, or the shadows whispering mean things all around.

HE DIDN'T WANT TO HEAR THEM.

He screamed.

He couldn't help it.

He felt more of the wet on his eyes, on his cheeks, in his ears.

He couldn't help it.

He wanted away from here. It was hard to breath.

He was scared. He was mad.

He yelled. No words. Just yelled. The wet felt funny and it was all over now. And he couldn't breath.

This was so hard.

He looked at Sammy. His friend was still watching him. His mouth was moving. He was talking. He should listen to Sammy, even though he would have to hear _them_ too. Sammy was important, he was special.

He should listen to him.

"… okay Bobby. I'm still here. Shhh, kiddo. Please? It's okay." The sound of Sammy's voice was good. But he couldn't understand the words. He could just hear his voice. The words were still there, but he couldn't understand them anymore. Sam was still here. That was good.

Annie wasn't here yet, but Sammy was. And that made it a little better. He could breath.

But now, someone else was here too: His special friend.

"Ja'ma'ee." Jalmari looked at him. He smiled at him, and his big hand rested on his head.

Everything was better now. His special friend was here to help him.

"Remember I will be with you, little one. And God is with you too." He liked the way Jalmari talked. It was soft. And it felt good. "Remember your words, even if you can't talk. Remember your words, little one. And I will be here."

His friend was all he could see. All he could feel. He felt something nasty put in his mouth. And it was hard to breath. But his special friend was right here. And Sammy was over there.

And he could be brave now.

* * *

Andy had prayed softly over the last several minutes.

He had registered sounds, screams, yelling, blurred along the edges as he prayed. Sounds tended to disappear in the background when he opened himself up to God. So it was with a dimmed awareness that when he finally pulled himself from his prayers he knew something was going on in the barn.

He thought he might have heard Sam scream. That was frightening in itself.

But confirming a worse fear was the sound of Bobby's loud, guttural yelling that now pierced the air. The child sounded so frightened.

Suddenly the quiet night air stilled all noises and he could no longer make out anything that would hint as to what was happening in the barn.

It was time. While he was so frightened his big hands actually trembled, he knew it was time. He could feel the pressing need deep against his chest.

He knew there was so much more at stake now. This was more than one man's demented attempt at pulling a demon through the veil.

He feared what would happen if he failed. He could not fail. Bobby was the key. He could not lose him.

She awoke alone and scared to death for her brother.

Bobby!

She looked around, not that he could hide in this tiny cell. Desperate now, her eyes widened as she heard his yelling echo down the hallway towards her.

"Bobby!" She only whispered his name, but as the tears burned her eyes she weakly sat up. The movement took more effort than she could admit but she needed to find a way to get to her brother. _Oh dear Lord, let me near him. Help me save him. Please, Lord! Be with us. God . . ._

A sound outside drew her attention. She wiped her eyes with a shaking hand to clear her vision, finally focusing on the big man outside the cell door. He held a gun. But nothing else.

"Where's my brother?" She was trying for angry and threatening. But all she was able to croak out was a broken whisper. She looked at him. This man. She felt so much anger toward him, and the others, and especially Larkin. Such hate. It felt alien and wrong to her, and somehow oh so right as well.

"He's already in the chamber. Now I need to get you. Stand up." He motioned up with the gun as he unlocked and entered the cell. She tried. Fiercely tried and weakly fell to her knees at least half a dozen times. She finally looked up at him, panting from the exertion.

Something in his gaze felt different, but she didn't have the energy to dwell on it. She was mad, disgusted with her body for betraying her. She needed to stand, to be able to go in where her brother was. She had to be there. She tried again.

She felt the cold weight of sweat drench her as she tried to pull her legs under her. The sheet she was clutching desperately to herself was damp, sticking to her and impeding her movement. With a frustrated groan she once again fell to her knees.

At this point she was shaking so badly so couldn't seem to find coherent thought. Except for Bobby. She had to get to Bobby. He vision blurred as tears once again filled her eyes. She didn't have the energy left to wipe them away.

"Please, I . . . can't . . ." She panted out the detested words and fought to stay conscious.

The man was at her side a moment later.

"I'll get you. Look. Um. Your brother is okay right now. He's calmed down." She tried to follow the man's words. _Why was he telling her this?_ "Shit. Man. Look, lady, I never meant to get all caught up in this kind of crap. I'm stuck though."

He looked at her almost pleadingly, and she realized now what he was doing. He wanted her to understand, to forgive him, or something.

"You're a coward." She paused, panting slightly to catch her breath. _The right words Lord, please help me find the right words._ "If you know something's wrong and you do it anyway, that's bad enough. If you know something's wrong, and your whole body is fighting against doing it, but you do it anyway, that makes you a coward. You have to be ready, sometimes, to fight for what is right."

She looked at this huge man. He was getting ready to take her to a certain kind of hell. But if she could find a way to get through to him . . . No, it was out of her hands. _Lord, I can't do anything more here. But you can work in his heart. Help him Lord. Help him choose to do the right thing._He looked down at her and she couldn't read the expression on his face. Her head fell forward and she felt him move behind her, typing her arms behind her. She listed to the side, unable to hold herself steady anymore.

He leaned her against his chest while he reached over her slight form to finish tying her wrists together. He crouched down, now holding her up with a hand against her good shoulder.

She could read the shame in his deep eyes and she closed her eyes against the emotions there. She couldn't do this. She shouldn't feel sorry for this man. _No!_ But her quiet heart did. She felt pity for him. He felt trapped. She could sense it radiating off him in waves.

She felt the slight pressure holding her up leave and then she was once again held up against his chest. He was tying a gag around her mouth. She stemmed the panic and tried to remember the peace.

She forced herself to meet his eyes when he again back away from her, holding her shoulder to keep her sitting. She shook from the effort her body was still putting forth.

She still couldn't tell what the man was thinking. He leaned closer and she tensed, shaking more from the effort.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could do more. And I guess that does make me a coward." She felt something placed carefully in her hand. Felt her fingers forced to cover the cool smoothness. "Hold that careful, it's sharp. Maybe it can help a little."

She felt weightless for a moment as he pulled her swiftly up to hold against him. Blinking her eyes as the black spots again took over, she tried to still her racing heart. _Oh Lord, help me._

He was carrying her easily, and as her eyes fell closed in exhaustion, she grasped the knife in her hand even tighter. _Give me a chance, Lord._

* * *

Trembling, Lori pulled the gun to rest in her stronger hand. The nice guy who'd helped her had been gone for a while now, and she was sick of waiting.

The safety was still off on the gun, and it was staying off. She needed to be ready. Just in case.

She heard a snap just outside the small shack and tensed, raising the gun with a trembling hand. The soft scuffles of some small creature scritch-scratched across the ground, making her shake her head at her jumpiness.

Long minutes passed. She could make out the muffled sounds of the man tied up to the side of the building. She hoped he was secure, 'cause the thought of him out there scared her silly.

Not that she'd ever admit it to . . . _what was that?_

A small snap.

She listened intently. It was on the opposite side and she scanned the wall, wishing for x-ray vision. She heard something, just the slightest rustle. Again she raised the gun, steadying it as best she could in a trembling hand.

She aimed toward the doorway, ready to focus at the first sign of an actual target. She didn't have to wait long. She heard the soft sound of a light step just before a leg appeared at the bottom of the doorway.

She'd wait for a better target. Center of body mass. Self defense 101. She took it for a reason, a lot of good it did her now. She waited, not even daring to breath.

But when the larger target appeared, she found herself shaking too hard to pull the trigger.

It was a man. She closed her eyes to try and summon courage, and took a deep breath. Steadying the gun she held she backed up slightly to look into the eyes of the man braced inside the doorway.

"Don't come any closer. I'll shoot." She meant to sound threatening, but it came out as a whisper instead. Weird, the man held his own gun, but when his hazel eyes met hers, he held his hands out submissively.

He looked familiar.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I came here to help." He studied her, and seemed like he was willing her to believe him. And for the strangest reason, she wanted to.

* * *

He was crouched to the side of the old playhouse type structure. It looked like it had seen better days. His head was cocked, listening intently when he heard the slight rustling sound of a small creature scuttling at his feet. He could hear some kind of muffled sounds coming from the other side of the building.

His gun arm was relaxed but wary. As he looked around in the quickly darkening evening, he could feel the evil presence in the air, almost smell it. Which must be why he crossed the doorway without even considering someone could be inside the ancient structure. _Idiot!_

He turned to confront the person he sensed, but had to lower his eyes to find the woman sitting almost against the small wall of the structure. She backed away slightly but held firm. He had to admire her steadiness as she held the gun straight ahead, centered at his chest. Too bad her whole body was shaking. It kind of took away from the threat.

"Don't come any closer. I'll shoot." Her strangled whisper made him wince. He was just close enough to see that she had a flannel shirt on, and a blanket coming out from under it. The bruising all over her face, the matted hair and dried blood and bruising around her ankles told of something horrible.

But her almost wild eyes scared him into speaking.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I came here to help." He said it as softly, gently, as he could. He even went so far as to hold his hands out relaxing his gun within his grip so that it wouldn't threaten her.

She looked like she wanted to believe him. But those eyes. Man._ Those eyes_. He met them unflinchingly, waiting for her to get it. To trust him.

"It's okay. I swear. I'm here to help." He kneeled down to study her a little closer. She flinched and he stayed put. "Look, what's your name?"

"Lori." She inched away, wincing.

"Lori, I'm Dean. I swear I'm not going to hurt you. I think my brother and our friends might be here. I need to find them." He studied her carefully. A soft thumping sound and muffled cursing sounded along the side of the shack. Dean listened to it for a moment then met those haunted eyes again. "Friend of yours?"

"No." Her gaze swung sharply to the wall, as the thumping continued.

"Who helped you? Was he tall, dark hair. Looked like he needed a haircut?" She shook her head, looking confused.

"No, he was tall. But his hair was cut short." She looked again to the side as the thumping continued. She wrapped her arms around herself almost protectively.

"I'll be right back." He went around the side of the building and found the noisemaker under some debris and plants there. The man's wide eyes barely had a chance to meet his before Dean brought his fist down hard on the man's temple. He went back inside, again crouching softly, carefully in front of the scared woman.

"He's not going to bother you, I promise, okay?" He met her gaze, heartened to see some resolve there. "Now, I need to go find my brother and friends. You don't know anything about where they might be, do you?"

"The barn. I know there's supposed to be something going on in the barn tonight." She bit her lip.

"We'll be back to get you. It'll be okay." He wished he was as calm as he sounded. He didn't miss just how badly hurt this girl was, and just hoped to have his brother and the others back in one piece. And maybe hurt Larkin. A lot. That resolve in mind, he stood.

"Stay sharp. But don't shoot me!" He met her gaze with a small grin, hoping it would let her know he was teasing, kind of. Something about chicks and guns. Why did they like trying to shoot him?

He shook his head sharply, heading around the side of the house to scout the area and assess the risks.

It was time to hunt some Larkin.


	20. Ch 19 Sacrifice

**Title/Chapter**: Ancient Words - Ch. 19 "Sacrifice"  
**Author**: Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**: The ritual has begun and a sacrifice is offered.

* * *

Chapter 19 – "Sacrifice"

Shadows danced across the room.

Dark mixed with light in a mesmerizing symphony, each fighting for control in the open space.

The air was still, as if waiting. Just as they were all – waiting: hardly daring to breathe; waiting for this nightmare to begin. The drum of his own heartbeat strained against his chest as he watched the horrifying show unfold.

Maybe it was the flickering of the candlelight, but Larkin's movements seemed jerky, controlled, and deliberate. He was across the room, so Sam couldn't make out the words he was mumbling to himself in a forceful mantra.

Eyes closed and head reclined back, Larkin's face flickered in a dark expression of ecstasy. When again he opened his eyes, their deep blue was startling in their intensity. Sam found himself tensed, pulling uselessly against the bonds that held him cruelly to the table.

His eyes swung to the other occupants of this hell. Bobby's deep brown eyes were watching in detached fascination. His face was calm, almost peaceful. He looked like he was in his own world. For that, Sam was grateful.

He'd watched as the big man brought Annie in several moments ago. She was so still he thought for sure she was unconscious, but her eyes had blinked open as she was seated on the floor, seeking out her brother.

He watched her now, studying the way the flickering light danced across her pale features, accentuating bruises and highlighting the burning fear deep in her eyes. As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned her head slightly and met his gaze. The resolve in her eyes took him by surprise.

Maybe it was because she looked so broken.

In fact, looking at her sitting there, weakly held up against the wall, head listing to rest there as well, one would think she was out for the count. But her eyes - they spoke of a different story. The determination was intense, and her brown eyes were deep pools of it.

Sam wished he could tell her to stay strong. In Bobby's words, to be brave. As if she heard his silent wish, she inclined her head toward him slightly before again turning towards her brother.

His eyes drew back to Bobby as well, as he sensed a change within the room. Bobby must have sensed it as well, because he tensed, eyes roving about frantically before finally resting on his sister.

The charge within the room lifted the air, causing the slightest wind to gather. He felt his skin tingle and goose bumps rise. He strained against his bonds uselessly as he took in the sight of Larkin's excited countenance. Their captor stood in front of Bobby, gazing down at his prize in detached fascination. In his hand, he held a long, silver knife. The lights danced off the metal, tossing arcs of light around the room.

He screamed through the gag, wishing desperately for a miracle. _Hell, I'll pray for a miracle right about now, God. Seriously, dude. Just save Bobby._

* * *

Annie watched the proceedings with mounting fury. Righteous anger made her shake, but her pained and exhausted body was numb by now to its torment.

There just wasn't enough time.

She couldn't place the knife behind her bound wrists, instead fumbling, and cut her wrists several times. She watched the macabre scene before her in horror.

The shadows dancing around the room seemed to radiate the very fight between good and evil about to ensue. Dark mixed with light in a mesmerizing symphony, each fighting for control. Annie closed her eyes.

The still air accentuated her position, forced to watch from her place on the floor. She could _just_ make out her brother's face. She was relieved to see that he seemed to be blocking this out.

She bore holes through the back of the man in between her and her brother, stopping as she felt other eyes on her. She barely turned her head, flicking her eyes to see Sam for the first time. She acknowledged him, understood the feeling of helplessness written plainly on his face.

She wished she could tell him to just be brave, it would be okay. She registered his resolve, holding it close to her. If there was a way to get out of this, he would find it. Or maybe she could. But not without a little help.

She sensed the change in the air. Bobby must have sensed it too, she felt his eyes collide with hers as she struggled not to panic because of the fear hidden within those brown depths. Her sweet brother! He didn't deserve this. Tears gathered and burned trails down her cheeks as she held her brother's gaze, wishing desperately she could infuse him with strength.

She felt the slightest wind as a charge within the room lifted the air. She let her gaze wander fleetingly from her brother. Noticed that the man in front of her was tensed, his back straight. In his hand, he held a long, silver knife. The lights danced off the metal, tossing arcs of light around the room.

She shuddered at the small light show, knowing what that knife was for.

Her heart pounded within her chest and she found it hard to breath with the panic that was overtaking her. When she turned her eyes just seconds later to meet her brother's, she found he was looking ahead at the monster in front of him.

She watched in horror, screaming into her gag uselessly as the knife raised high in the air. The light reflected off it in a shocking flash of brightness. For just a moment, it seemed to still in the mid-air.

_Oh my God! Please! You have to help my brother! Lord, please, save him!_ The silent prayer echoed in her mind as her screams muffled hotly against the gag in her mouth, almost choking her.

This was not the way it was supposed to go! Evil was NOT supposed to win! She closed her eyes as the knife started a quick descent.

She couldn't watch this.

She couldn't watch her brother die.

* * *

Andy felt the most insistent need to hurry and followed his instincts. Braced against the inside of a back hallway within the barn, he took quick assessment. No one was left in what appeared to be a cell along this wall, and the only other way to go was down another hallway.

He could feel the charge in the air even before he rounded the corner. This was the only direction available, and he somehow knew it was the way he must go.

Heart heavy, thumping heavily against inside of his chest, he moved down the hallway swiftly. The door to a large room, or chamber of sorts, was cracked several inches, allowing Andy a glimpse of ominous flickering lights.

He carefully eased the door open, an inch at a time. He needn't have bothered being careful, as the occupants of the room were all riveted by the man standing in front of the small table, arm raised.

The charge within the room was lifting the air, causing the slightest wind to gather. He felt his skin tingle and goose bumps rise. Larkin held a long, silver knife in his raised hand. The lights danced off the metal, tossing arcs of light around the room. For one mesmerizing moment, the light was blinding as it reflected brilliantly. Andy blinked, sure he saw something more substantial in the bright light. But then it was gone.

And in the split second between decision and indecision, Andy knew what he had to do. He had to protect the boy. He had to protect the key. He knew that Larkin had completed the incantation by the relaxed way he held his shoulders, when just seconds before they had been tensed.

In a moment of clarity Andy knew it wouldn't be enough to take out Larkin, as he could make out the black mass swirling just beyond the man in the darkness and flickering light.

He pushed himself to move as the knife started its downward descent. _Lord, I hope this is the right thing to do. Give me strength and be with us, Lord._

His quiet prayer joined others as he ran across the room, leaping across the table to cover the child there. He felt the knife as it impaled high up in the middle of his back and braced himself as best he could.

The pain drifted away as he sought Bobby's eyes. He was at an awkward angle, but he could still meet the shocked gaze of his little friend. He could also feel the tingling sensation as he started to drift. He reached one arm up swiftly and yanked at the gag in the child's mouth.

"You . . . have to . . .use those words now . . . the extra special wor . . ." He kept his elbows propped now as he felt the strength leave his body. He met Bobby's eyes even as he lost the ability to focus completely, willing the boy to understand.

With a look of complete understanding, the boy opened his mouth, and ancient words poured forth. A soft sigh echoed as he succumbed finally to the darkness.

* * *

Larkin watched the sickening display and screamed in anger. How in the world did the damn pastor get in here. He was ruining his plans!

He turned, hands to his head, as he glared back at the pastor's limp form again. Well, shit.

So much for his perfect sacrifice.

Suddenly, though, he realized something. He had finished his incantation! Asmodai! He whirled around, looked down to ensure the circle was still intact, and then studied the room more closely.

He didn't notice the black mist until it was upon him, but he welcomed it, throwing his arms up and grinning in joy as evil invaded his body.

The demon descended upon his waiting host, reveling in the human's already dark mind. He expanded within, throwing himself into overtaking mind and body. The demon stopped abruptly, considering the weak mind he had invaded.

The one he inhabited had summoned him for a reason. He entered the private recesses of his host, determined to understand this one.

"You wish revenge?"

"Oh yes, Master." Although the man's devotion was satisfying, his weakness was disgusting. The weak human cowered within his own mind. Asmodai felt for the man's memories and pulled them close. He stared at the man in amazement.

"You think I would grant one such as you my powers? That I would happily remain in this weak body and in such a weak host? You fool!" In a rush of anger, he took over, sending the man screaming further into the recesses of his mind. Larkin would never find the way out of his mind. Satisfied, he returned to the task at hand. Power. He craved it.

And while the fool was an idiot of the highest regard, he had arranged a treat a hungry demon just could not ignore. He situated himself more fully, more comfortably, within the human body. Turning, he reveled in the moment, studying the scene in front of him. A bloody body was strewn over this table.

While he felt a source of power behind him, he was more interested in the human on the other table. He walked over the few steps until he could peer into the man's eyes. Satisfying. He wouldn't have needed the symbol etched on this one's chest to find him. He almost inhaled the essence that was this one. He devoured the man with his eyes, eager to pull his power from him.

The man met his eyes unflinchingly. He yelled something through the gag, his face a stunning display of anger. Amused, he ripped the gag from the man's mouth.

"You would fight even though it is clear who is stronger?" He studied the young man. There was something about him.

"Go to hell." The flippant response amused him further.

"I've been there, thank you. It's a little warm for me." He leaned closer to this one. The strength radiated off him in waves. And something else. He lifted an eyebrow, reaching a hand over to place on the young one's forehead. Raw power. Yes! This one would be a fitting host for him. But first he needed to weaken him further.

As he pulled some of the essence from the human, he felt the man push back mentally. The strength of it recoiled against him almost physically. He situated himself and placed both hands now on the man's forehead. But something shifted in the atmosphere of the room, stilling his movements.

He peered around the chamber, not finding the source of his discomfort, and turned back to the man. He grinned down at him.

"This might hurt. But soon enough, you won't feel anything." He leaned closer to the man, pinning him to the table with a soft stare, as he again moved his hands into position on his forehead. The man arched on the table, screaming, as he began pulling his essence from him. He _had_ warned him it might hurt. Just as he was about to push further, gaining access to the man's mind, he felt something more insistent in the air around him.

Again, he stilled, looking around the room for the source of his discomfort. After several moments, he realized what human eyes could not tell him. His senses felt a small one hidden . . . there. He strode to the other table, tossing the large body from the table easily. He gaped at the boy on the table.

Blood covered his torso, but he lived. His dark eyes peered up into nothing, steady and pure. He almost glowed in his innocence.

Oh my! Now here was a true prize. And the idiot within this mind had thought to sacrifice this one instead of offering the little one to him properly. His gaze narrowed. There was something else about this one. Not just innocence.

What was that he was whispering? He leaned closer, recoiling in pain and shock as the words hit him like a solid punch to the gut. He stepped back slightly and scanned the little one more carefully. He was special indeed. How did one so small know the ancient words?

His eyes widened as it hit him. He searched the memories of the idiot he inhabited to learn more. To find out for sure. And as he searched those memories, he knew for sure.

He had found an actual key.

How had he not sensed him earlier?

Bracing himself for the pain of contact, he placed a hand on the little one's forehead. The pain hit him fully in the gut, but the innocence trumped it. The little one was chock full of innocence. Oh, how it fed him. Fed his desire. Fed his power. The little one still whispered as he drew his essence from him. Still whispered. Amazing. He should be weakened by now and yet he still whispered.

The words were potent.

They burned.

He withdrew.

"Leave him alone!" The other. The one with raw power, true essence. He gazed at him, no longer amused by his attitude. "He's just a boy! Leave him alone, don't hurt him!"

He walked over the slight space to stare at the dark haired one, Sam. He bored his eyes into the man's head, immensely satisfied by the gasp of pain as the pressure built there.

"What . . . do you . . . want . . . with him? He's just a little boy!" He was astounded. Did no one realize what this little one was?

"The one is not _just_ a little boy, you idiot! He is the key!"

"The key?" The man looked at him like he was crazy. Idiot. Imbecile. They had no clue.

"His death within the circle is the key to the veil." He studied the man, walking ever closer, almost intimately. "The key will hold it open. Allow even more of my brethren through. We can ready our side for the war of wars as we build our army."

"He's just a little boy!" The man was shaking his head. He dared question him? He whipped an arm out to slap the man's face. The force behind the blow threw his head to the side.

Raising a hand to encompass the young man's forehead once more, his rage compelled him to seek retribution. He sought the man's essence, but found himself pushed backwards physically. He staggered backwards, stunned.

This one's power was stronger than he first thought. Even weakened and unaware of his full power, he was able to repel him. He stared at him, studying the dark eyes. He shifted his head, staring into the eyes. Turning his head to the other side, he penetrated the deep green depths, drilling into the mind there.

He continued boring into the man's mind, excited when he heard the lone scream pierce the air around him.

A sudden sharp pain on his borrowed backside caused him to abruptly stop his assault.

He turned around, eyes wide and body tensed furiously, to face the threat. As he turned, he was hit full in the face with more of the burning liquid. The piercing eyes of a stranger stared him down. More of the liquid followed, causing him to twist away in pain before pulling himself up proudly to stand before this mere human.

This mere human who was staring daggers at him and poised to fight; who carried himself with the bearing a true hunter and protector.

"Get the fk away from my brother, you freaky son of a bch!"


	21. Ch 20 Fighting

**Title/Chapter**: Ancient Words - Ch. 20 "Fighting"**  
Author**: Supernatural Mommy **  
Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings**  
Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare**  
Warnings**: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation. **  
Summary**: The fight for survival begins.

* * *

Chapter 20

His back and chest were killing him. With a silent groan, he pushed the pain back and edged his way down the hallway. A creepy chill was working its way down his spine and he stopped, looking around to get his bearings.

He heard a soft groan echo in a room up ahead. His steps quickened, still falling softly, carefully. Dancing shadows escaped from an open door and he heard a soft murmur of someone talking. Slipping into the opening unnoticed, he gaped at the scene that greeted him.

Then, pushing his shock aside, his instincts took over and he started assessing, starting with the long form on the table several feet ahead of him. Sam. His face relaxed for a brief moment. Sammy was really there. His eyes narrowed and gaze hardened.

The dimness of the flickering light hid details he desperately wanted to process. He could tell Sam was tied to some kind of table. And his chest - he tensed - his brother's chest had been carved up. Was bleeding. And a damn knife was sticking from the center. But he was breathing. Was even looking like he wanted to kick some serious ass. Willing the anger down, he scanned the rest of the room.

Bobby. His fists clenched. The boy was tied to a smaller table. And he had blood all over his torso. His eyes stared blankly ahead. Oh, God.

Two men stood against an opposing wall. One wary and watchful - the bigger threat - and one fidgeting and nervous. He could take them.

His gaze swept and barely caught the slight form of Annie. She was staring at her brother. She leaned weakly against the wall, but seemed to be struggling. Her slight form was barely covered. He blinked back the rage as he accepted her bruised and bleeding condition.

His gaze moved back to his brother. Still processing the details as his eyes sharpened on the man threatening his brother. The possessed man threatening his brother.

That thing put his hands on Sammy's forehead, seeming to try to do something to his brother. He allowed a small smirk as he saw the demon propelled backwards.

"That's my boy." Speaking softly, his eyes took in his brother's battered form. He watched in mounting horror as the demon moved close to Sam, settling himself before looking down at him. What was he doing?

It didn't matter. Sam started to scream a piercing, agonizing scream. Dean blinked, trying to understand how his brother was being hurt. Shaking his head, he broke position and moved into action.

Grabbing a bottle of blessed water from his well-stocked pockets, he rushed to place himself right behind the asshole who dared hurt his brother. No one hurt his brother, not while he was here.

He squirted liquid at the demon's back, intensely satisfied by the rising steam and swift reaction. As the man turned, he threw more of the holy water into the evil face.

He tensed, readying for a fight, when he saw that the demon had moved past reacting to the holy water. He sneered down at him now, looking every inch the evil bard he was.

He moved to the side, trying to maneuver the thing slightly away from his brother.

"Get the fk away from my brother, you freaky son of a bch!" He doused the rest of the holy water directly into the creature's face, earning another moment's reprieve. His hand slid carefully to his side, sliding a knife from its sheath in his pocket. He inched himself ever closer to his brother, attempting to pull his body in between his brother and that son of a bch.

Carefully, Dean tensed with the knife in his hand behind his back as the creature in front of him shook the liquid from his face, and tried to wipe it free from his eyes. He felt carefully, finally feeling a hand there. Sam.

The energy he gathered from that brief touch fed his relief at having finally found his brother. He allowed himself time for a small squeeze before attempting the task at hand. Warily watching the demon still in front of him, he moved to the side the last couple of inches until he was settled firmly in front of his brother.

He sliced carefully at the rope he felt holding the hand there, slipping the knife quickly into that waiting hand as the demon settled on his feet, facing him with a thunderous expression on his now mutilated face.

"Nice try kid. Now it's my turn." With a stare of coal black eyes and a sharp twist of his head, Dean found himself flying through the air. He connected with the wall on the opposite side of the room, tangling in a tapestry that hung there. He landed with a thud on the floor, finding himself next to Annie's small form. Her eyes widened and he glanced away from her bruised face to see that the possessed man was already closing in on him.

He pushed himself off the floor, using the wall to leverage his sore body. Blocking the pain, he relaxed, and allowed himself to slip into a fighting stance. Not that it would do a lot of good. He eyed the demon as he advanced, unconsciously shifting to place himself in front of Annie.

He considered taunting him, but swallowed the urge down. Considering his nonexistent options, he was about to reach for more holy water.

But suddenly, the demon's approach was halted. The sneer was replaced with a look of surprise and Dean's mouth hung open as the demon slid back several feet. What the . . .?

He followed the demon's incredulous stare to look behind him to Annie, who was staring down the possessed man with a look of complete concentration on her face. He noticed her breathing sounded strained and quickly reached to pull the gag from her face.

He risked a glance back at the demon, and saw he was still reeling from whatever freaky assault Annie had initiated. He reached behind her to check her bindings as her whisper reached him.

"I can't . . . hold it . . . much longer . . . sorry." She started shaking and he put a hand on her shoulder. Her shudder of pain caused him to pull away, and instead he pulled a bloody knife from her grasp and used it to quickly slice through her bindings. His eyes absorbed the abuse her body had suffered and locked it away before the rage could consume him.

"Damn, Annie. That was awesome." She shook, and with a sigh collapsed on herself. He looked up to see the demon again advancing on him. Slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he made out the two thugs slowly advancing from the side wall. Shit. He needed to draw these guys away from Annie and Sam.

"Christo!" The demon's flinch was just the slight hesitation he needed to move. In a fluid movement, he grasped a knife from where it was strapped around his ankle, fingering the hilt and rotating it to rest in his hand as he stood and rushed the two men advancing from the side wall.

He had the element of surprise and his two running steps gave him the momentum he needed to deliver a swift upper cut to the first man. He staggered, and Dean took the moment's reaction to drive a fist to the man's temple, knocking him out of the action, for now at least.

The assault lasted only a moment, and as Dean turned he saw the possessed man had taken long strides and was watching him with something like amusement on his face.

"You are good, hunter. But no match for me." He spoke and gathered himself at the same time, drawing his borrowed body up to its full height and exuding an air of strength that Larkin would never have been able to pull off. Shoulders straight and head still cocked slightly to the side, the look of amusement remained. Dean stood straight and tensed, knowing he was flanked by both the demon and the jerk behind him.

His options dwindling, he looked down at the ground. He looked up to meet endless black eyes as the demon stepped even closer to him. He smiled, trying not to let it slip as he felt the demon's breath hot against his face.

"God, man, get a mint or something. You reek!" He winced at the grin that stole over the burned face in front of him.

"Funny. Grab him." He motioned the man behind him. But Dean reacted before that man could, stomping his foot down hard on the man's foot and jamming his elbow backwards hard into the man's stomach. Hearing the grunt of pain, he spun to the side, again facing the demon.

He needed a plan.

Seeing movement over the possessed man's shoulder, he almost sighed in relief as he saw his brother sit up slowly. His gaze slipped to just behind the demon, and he swallowed against the bile in his throat at the small child on that table. Bobby.

He averted his gaze. Man. So much blood.

He hardened his face. He didn't have time for emotions right now. He lifted his eyes to meet dark, soulless ones, swallowing at the threat there. The eyes were all he could see now. Black. Dark. Empty. Unable to look away, a drop of sweat rolled down, over his eyebrow, dropping to splash on his cheek as it continued its slow descent down his face.

But still, he couldn't look away. He swallowed, unable to command his body to do anything else.

And then the pain began. He felt an explosion of white-hot pain inside his head, pounding inside his temple. His eyes opened wide against the pressure building there. His breathing hitched, then quickened in reaction to the pain.

His body succumbed, falling heavily to knees. Still, while his body reacted, he had no control. Maintaining his balance unconsciously on now trembling knees, he still could only see the demon's eyes. Black, deep, unending.

He felt the blood as it leaked in a trickle from his left nostril, slowly trailing to tickle his upper lip before running against the outer ridge of his lip until it met the corner of his mouth. Unable to do anything but feel every slight sensory assault through the pain in his head, his breathing became more erratic. His heart pounded.

Hyper-sensitive now, he could still feel the drops of sweat as they ran down his forehead. Could still feel the slight tickle of blood as it dripped free from the corner of his mouth. He sensed a presence moving behind the demon. But he still couldn't tear his gaze away from those eyes. Black, dark, empty. Never-ending.

* * *

The pain consumed him.

Sam pulled his pain-wracked mind slowly into focus, so relieved the agony had ebbed he almost sobbed. He heard the possessed man turn, and was vaguely aware that someone else was there.

For a second, silence and something like a sizzling sound. What?

"Get the fk away from my brother, you freaky son of a bch!"

Dean?

He twisted his still pounding head to the side and looked up through a pain-induced haze to see a familiar profile standing beside him. As he was still trying to wrap his mind around his brother actually, finally, being here, he felt a tentative touch on his hand. Looking down, he saw that Dean's hand was trying to find his.

He reached awkwardly with his long fingers and grasped the other hand carefully, avoiding the knife held there. _Dean!_ Man, it was so good to know that his brother was here. Feeling the slight squeeze of his brother's hand, he returned it. The energy he pulled from that small touch fed his determination.

He watched, waiting impatiently, as the knife carefully sliced through the layers of rope holding his wrist to the table. It was almost free when he realized that Dean had stopped. He looked up, watching the interchange between his brother and the demon, as the knife was placed in his hand.

He watched in horror as his brother's body went flying through the air. As the possessed man walked away, he awkwardly turned the knife around in his hand, using sharp motions with his flexed wrist to help slice the rest of the rope away.

His eyes widened when he realized that Annie was somehow helping his brother now, pushing the demon back. He shook his head, clearing away painful cobwebs, and sighed in relief as he was able to bring his freed arm over to start cutting at the ropes on his other wrist.

He drew in a ragged breath at the pain in his chest as he twisted. His hand was shaking by the time he had the other wrist free. He caught his breath for just a moment before trying to sit up. The pain brought him up short and he fell back down painfully to the table.

He looked over to see how Dean was doing. Not so great. He was now cornered, two of Larkin's men moving from the other side of the room while Larkin's body advanced slowly as well. Using every ounce of strength he could pull from his damaged body, he used his shaking arms to push up off the table.

The blood was flowing freely from his chest, both from the hole left behind by the small knife and the other damage to his chest. He winced, and then took a deep breath. Willing the pain to the back of his mind, he spared a glance at his brother. He was flying through the air, in full attack mode.

Looking he leaned over to slice at the ropes binding his ankles. It took several agonizing moments, but they were finally free. He shifted his weight and pulled his body to the side, letting his legs now hang over the side of the table. His feet grazed the floor.

The air in the room shifted and he looked apprehensively over to find his brother again. Not good. The damn demon was directly in front of him, and by the expression on Dean's face, was starting to mentally pound at his brother now. He eased slowly down from the table, swaying slightly once on his feet. As he watched Dean fall heavily to his knees, he forced his sore body to move.

Agonizing seconds later he was behind the possessed man. He glanced over the shoulder there to see blood now running from Dean's nose, and sweat pouring from his forehead. He had to do something to stop this. He raised the hilt of the knife and brought the hard end of the handle down on top of Larkin's head.

Nothing.

Well, shit.

The demon twisted with a sneer on his face.

"I didn't realize you wanted to join the party, Sammy." It took a split second's glance to tell Sam that at least Dean had some relief. He pulled his gaze back to the demon possessed man, trying to maneuver him away from his brother by stepping back.

He stepped back again, frantically trying to figure out some kind of plan. Preferably one that didn't include the demon ripping him apart.

One more step back.

And another.

Sam was desperately wishing for that plan now, when suddenly the demon went flying. Someone had tackled him. He glanced back over to see his brother still on his knees. Avoiding the blur of bodies on the floor, he made his way slowly over to his brother.

"Dean?" He knelt painfully beside his brother, tears stinging his eyes as he grabbed his arm, turned him to look into those eyes. He swallowed thickly, cursing his weakness. "Man, I was starting to wonder if you'd ever show up!"

"Had . . . to make . . . a dramatic entrance there . . . little . . . brother." The words escaped painfully, and the answering look on Dean's face, for just a split second, looked raw. Emotional. But with a blink, the hazel eyes cleared and met his with a steady concern instead. "You okay?"

"Fine, Dean. Come on, we don't have much time." He grabbed Dean's arm and pulled, gasping as pain shot through his chest. Still, he steadied his breathing and jerked even harder on Dean's arm. His brother's heavy body came slowly to standing. Sam looked over to see that the bodies were still strewn on the floor. Looking closer his eyes opened a little wider in surprise. George?

George had been the one to tackle the demon? He shook his head. Dean was steadying himself now, so Sam stepped a little closer to the two bodies on the floor, tensing as he saw Larkin's body begin to move. George lay still.

He turned back to Dean, who was rotating his shoulders and looking around carefully.

"We need to get Annie and Bobby, find Andy. We can't beat this thing alone." Sam shook his head. He was concerned about Andy. Last he'd seen of the big man was when the demon threw him off Bobby, after he'd been stabbed trying to protect the boy. He glanced behind him, to find Annie's eyes steady on him. She blinked, focusing as he met her eyes.

They were running out of time. Fast.

"Aw, man! Damn! Andy's down for the count, Sam." He heard a slight shuffle of feet as Dean dropped for a moment. "He's alive. But oh . . . shit! There's so much blood!"

"Dean. Get Bobby off that alter. The demon'll be up any second now. Fast!" Sam couldn't explain it, but he knew their reprieve was about to be over, and he knew also that Bobby was still in a lot of danger. His gaze narrowed, and in the flash of a second, the possessed man was on his feet and staring Sam down. He gulped, and stepped back.

"Too late, Sammy-boy!" The once blue eyes of Larkin flashed ebony and pinned Sam with a hard stare. Maybe Dean could get Bobby if he could just distract this thing. He closed his eyes, thinking for a second. Then started softly chanting as he stepped back again from the demon.

"Exorcizo te. Immundissime spiritus. Omnis incursio adversarii, omne phantasma, omnis legio, in nominee Domini nostri Jesu Chrisi . . . " He swallowed thickly as rage twisted the face in front of him. He continued the slow, precise, recital of the ritual. He'd gone straight for the jugular, starting the exorcism without bothering with the Psalm or prayer that normally preceded them. He took another step back, stumbling slightly as he found himself twisted in a leg. Annie. He continued the methodical chant, flinching as the demon seemed to gather himself up taller within the borrowed body.

He suddenly found himself flung against the wall, with a deep pressure holding him up from his neck. He was unable to continue speaking as the world started to tilt around him. Several moments later, the hold was released and his body fell to the floor in a heavy slump. His body was having a hard time recovering, and he fought hard to remain conscious as everything dimmed, greying as if far away.

A tentative touch on his arm drew his unfocused gaze to the side, where he met Annie's anxious eyes. Her eyes flew up and his gaze followed hers to see the tall visage of a furious demon-possessed man. Well, that wasn't his brightest plan. He swallowed as the demon sneered down on them. Vision once again sharpened as he willed the pain away. Out of the corner of his peripheral vision he could see Dean pulling Bobby from the table. Great.

So where was the rest of that brilliant plan when he needed it?

* * *

She shivered, watching the devotion between the two brothers, wishing desperately she could get to hers. She was gathering herself to try and stand when she noticed Sam backing her way, the possessed Larkin crowding him as he stepped back again.

_Okay God, a little help would be awesome right about now. What do we do? Please! Help us! Give me strength Lord, I can't do this myself, but I need to be strong enough to help. Please, Lord!_

Sam stumbled against her limp leg and a moment later steadied himself, only to be flung against the wall. Annie watched in horror as his throat compressed underneath an invisible grip. She realized then he had been reciting part of the exorcism ritual when he had to stop because he couldn't breath. She concentrated, focusing on just the grip on Sam's throat.

_Come on God, help!_

When he slumped to the floor a moment later she had no clue if she had helped or if the demon had just let him go. But Sam didn't look so great. She reached a tentative hand out to touch his arm.

As he met her gaze, his vision seemed to clear and she appreciated the strength she felt there. She could actually feel it coming from him in waves right now. Her gaze was pulled up to see the demon sneering down at both of them, now. And suddenly she was quite scared. Her grip on Sam tightened and she found herself wishing fervently that she could pull a little of that strength and courage from him. 'Cause hers had left the building.

_God, you know that pesky little verse you shoved down my throat? "For when I am weak then I am strong"? You wouldn't want to deliver on that promise right about now would you? Or just find some way to help us out? Please? I'm not too proud to say I'm a weakling . . . Lord . . . help us please!_

Suddenly her eyes closed and she trembled. Something was happening. She felt . . . weird. She was feeling what must be Sam's surface emotions in waves. Anger. Lots and lots of anger, and frustration. Fear? Yes. He felt plenty of fear too...she felt it in the pit of her stomach. Under it, coursing strong and vibrantly ran raw power and strength.

Unaware of what her body was doing, she started to feel strengthened. Suddenly more sure, she willed the pain to the back of her mind. She opened her eyes to see Sam's dark eyes questioning her. She gave a small shake of her head and then turned her attention on the possessed man again.

Still gripping Sam's arm, she closed her eyes again and mentally shoved as hard as she could, opening her eyes to see the Demon staggering backwards over half the length of the chamber. _Wow_. Did she do that? She looked over at Sam again.

"Your power . . .Sam . . ." She whispered, understanding hitting her suddenly. "Your power is so strong, when I felt your emotions I was able to absorb some of the energy. I wonder . . ."

Concentrating, she mentally reached out to Sam and felt for the emotions of before. She frowned.

"Trust me, Sam. Feel everything. I have to feel your emotions loud and clear to see if this can work." She didn't know how she knew this but, _thank you God_, it was really clear to her now. With strong emotions, their psychic connection could link them, allow them to share strengths with one another. Before, when she was hit with Sam's emotions, she didn't even realize what she was doing and pulled enough raw energy to replace her own reserves.

She opened her eyes to see him looking at her almost incredulously. She sighed, risked a glance back at the biggest threat of the room, and looked back at Sam.

"I think, when I felt your strong emotions just then, it created a link. I was able to borrow some of your strength. I didn't try to . . ." His gaze narrowed and she rushed on. "But I think it can work both ways, Sam. If I can feel your emotions strongly enough, maybe we can both share. I've been able to shove him away twice now."

He nodded, dark eyes still looking troubled as he glanced over at the demon and then back at her.

"If you can share your strength, your power with me, maybe I can share mine with you. Maybe make it easier for you to use whatever powers you already have." She studied him, willing him to take a chance. And was relieved when she felt him relax, the emotions radiating off him.

The rest of the room faded away, and again Annie could feel the waves of emotions. They were more contained than before, but as she allowed them to wash over her, still grasping Sam's arm tightly, she found the pulsing power and strength she had felt before.

She allowed some of the power to wash over her, and it hit like a refreshing wave. She could feel her body strengthen under the assault. She felt blindly for one of Sam's hands, winding her small fingers through his large ones. Breathing deeply, she concentrated on the innermost part of herself. Her own power, small in comparison, but different, mixed in the stream of feelings, emotions, and traveled back through to Sam. She wouldn't be able to explain the feeling to anyone ever, but she felt almost whole. His hand squeezed hers as the room again hit them with its encroaching reality.

Her eyes opened, to meet his deep green ones. There was a spark there that hadn't been before. She tilted her head to the side, wondering at the change. They still held hands, and while she blushed, she was comforted by the strength in that contact. She looked back over to find the demon again on the warpath, coming ever closer to her and Sam. The strong hand squeezed hers, while at the same time Sam slid up the wall to standing. He pulled her hand, helping her up.

Together, they turned to face the demon. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

The demon went flying with a shriek.

_Whoa! Thank you Jesus!_ A little bemused by what they had just done, she looked over with a soft grin, which Sam returned.

"Dude! Now that's what I call using the force!" They twisted to see Dean, carrying a limp Bobby. He nodded his head at the befuddled demon shaking its borrowed head. All eyes were drawn to the pale little boy in his arms.

"Bobby!" Annie was already reaching for her brother, shaking with worry. Dean eased the little guy to the floor, then placed himself in front of his brother, Annie and the kid.

"Oh my God! There's so much blood!" A tear coursed down her cheek, leaving a cold trail behind. She hadn't had a clear view during the ceremony. But she had seen Andy come barreling through. She knew the big guy had been stabbed. But Bobby too?

Her hands shook as she felt for a pulse, relieved to find one but oh, so worried that it wasn't very steady. _Oh God . . . oh God . . . _She repeated her desperate mantra, rocking slightly as she tried to see where all the blood was coming from.

Finally, with a sob, she tore a strip from her sheet, and started wiping at her brother's chest. She gasped as the source of the bleeding became clear.

"Damn! Dean! He's been stabbed." Sam moved past her shaking hands and started putting pressure on the wound. She watched him, feeling helpless. "It doesn't make any sense. There's so much blood, but this isn't that deep."

He pulled his hands away, the puncture wound still leaking. But he was right, Annie could tell as she looked closer. It was bleeding, but it didn't account for the amount of blood drenching her brother. Andy?

So much blood.

She tried to picture what had happened before. Andy came in, jumping to place himself in between Bobby and the dagger Larkin held. How long was that dagger? She gasped when she finally realized what happened.

"He was under Andy when he was stabbed. He must have been stabbed with the same knife, after it went through Andy. Oh, Andy!" Sam was nodding as she spoke, and then tensed as he again applied pressure to the wound in Bobby's chest.

"Sammy, we got other problems here." Dean glanced back over his shoulder meeting his brother's eyes. "You wouldn't happen to have more of those JEDI tricks up that sleeve . . . um . . . well, yeah. Anymore tricks you can pull out, there, Sammy?"

Sam placed her hands over the wound and helped her push firmly.

"Here, I gotta help him out. I don't think it's that bad, but we have to try and stop the bleeding. It'll be okay, Annie." He rested a blood-covered hand on her shoulder, green eyes piercing hers quickly, before he stood and turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother.

_God, cut us a break here . . . Bobby has to be okay! Please! God?_

_God?_


	22. Ch 21 The Protectors

**Title/Chapter**: Ancient Words - Ch. 21 "The Protectors"**  
Author**: Supernatural Mommy **  
Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings**  
Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare**  
Warnings**: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. **  
Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation. **  
Summary**: The protectors rise to the challenge. Will they be too late? **  
**

* * *

_**Chapter 21**_

The time was swiftly approaching.

Great wings quivering in agitation, the Being turned, gazing at the scene before him.

The smallest figure in the room drew his attention, his light strong even though he was covered in a crimson stain. The little one had whispered the ancient words until his body betrayed him, succumbing to stress and blood loss. He was but a mere boy.

The key.

So innocent still.

His protector loomed close, her light shimmering even while tears glistened. Her silent prayers whispered towards him, around him. They pierced him, his fathomless eyes opening wide as his prayers joined hers, mixing to form a symphony of want and need.

_Please, my Lord, help the boy. Strengthen him. Be with him. _

Her words within: _God, cut us a break here . . ._

_Lord, this little one is so much more than the key. He is innocence and light. He is pure. Save him, Lord._

The desperate whisper of a sister echoed: _Bobby has to be okay! Please!_

He closed his eyes against the desperation, the fear. _Lord!_

Jalmari's eyes snapped open. The answer had come.

It was time.

* * *

It hurt.

It hurt bad.

He opened his eyes, trying to see past the wet in them.

He blinked. Again.

"Hurts." He sounded funny, like he was using his quiet voice. But he wasn't trying to.

"God. Hep'. Hurts." The wet was all over his eyes again. On his cheeks. His chin.

And then, it was better. He sniffed. The wet was still in his eyes. It didn't hurt now. But he was still scared.

He tried to be brave.

He said the words.

Andy said to say the special words. And he did. He was here now, not there. There it was scary and the bad thing was being mean. Here was nice. He liked it here. The bad thing wasn't here.

But . . . he was scared.

Andy hurt. And Annie hurt. And Sammy hurt. He wanted to help them; Wanted to be brave.

He was still scared.

He wiped the wet away. But more came.

It was all too much. And he was scared.

Someone was here. He looked up. Smiled.

It was his special friend.

Now he could be brave again.

The small one looked up at him with tears flooding his eyes, rolling all over that sweet face. Fear radiated from him. But underneath, Jalmari knew there was confusion and anger swirling.

_Oh, Lord, how to help him understand? How to help him fulfill his role now?_

His wings flexed as he sat at the little one's level.

"Jalmari, help!" He was surprised to feel the child's weight as he flung his small body against his chest. Rocking slightly with the boy, he curled his wings around them both protectively. "Scared."

The last word was muffled against his chest as he held the little one gently, praying softly for the words to come.

"Bad thing hurt Andy. Annie. Sam-mie. _Bad thing_, Jalmari." The quivering voice wasn't really relaying the facts. No, the angel understood the boy was desperately seeking answers.

The being sighed deeply.

"I know this is hard for you to understand, little one. The evil hurting them is very, very bad." He looked down to see Bobby's still-confused face.

"God help? Jalmari? God make bad thing go away . . . make all better." He nodded his head and Jalmari hung his. If only it were that easy.

"No, little one. God cannot make this go away. He cannot make all the bad things go away." He was startled by the small hand that suddenly started pounding against his chest. Now both fists were pounding away. He wondered at the emotions crossing the boy's face, realizing quickly that the boy didn't understand how to deal with his intense emotions.

"God help! God good . . . thing bad . . . good fight bad . . .Jalmari!" He did not understand. His mind tried to make connections that, in his innocence, could not be made. Jalmari felt the odd sting of tears in his eyes as he fought to help the boy understand.

"Little one. God needs special people like you to help him. To be brave. And to fight for Him. To fight the evil one." The boy stopped hitting him and stared at his chest, shoulders slumped and eyes still raining tears.

"Bobby scared." His voice was small. He sat huddled in Jalmari's lap.

"God is still with you, little one. Right here." He gently poked the little boy's chest, above his heart. "He is close to you, child. Always with you."

The small head rose slowly, tears still dripping. He sniffed, and stood up. His little face was still hard. His hands were fisted at his side, and shoulders were now squared. When he met the angel's eyes, Jalmari blinked in shock. This little one wasn't angry any longer. He was furious.

"God _big_. Fight bad thing _easy_. Bobby small. Hard fight bad thing. God need help! GOD NEED HELP!" He raised his voice to screaming, rocking slightly and trembling all over. He stomped a foot, accentuating his anger and frustration. Jalmari knew the boy did not understand why, if He could, God did not fix it.

He wrapped strong arms around the trembling child. Pulling him close as he rose to his knees. His wings vibrated with emotion behind him.

"Bobby. God wants you to help your sister, to help the pastor and Sam. More, little one, God _needs_ you to help all of us. Help God."

He had assumed correctly. At the mention of helping his sister and their friends, he was again open. Amazingly, his furious expression had abated, leaving a scared, tired boy behind.

"But Bobby small. God big. How Bobby help?"

"Yes. You are small, child. But you are also very special. You can speak the special words, and the most ancient of words. You are very special, little one." He saw the bewilderment in the child's face. Such innocence. He drew a deep breath.

"Bobby like special words." He leaned forward and Jalmari grasped his hand, drawing it close to his own chest.

"It is more than that, child. There is power behind the words. But, Bobby . . ." Here he paused and met the little one's deep eyes. Bottomless. Such intensity. "When you say the words, they become more. They have great power."

The eyes across from his didn't blink. He grasped the hand he held more tightly. He _must_ understand. It was time.

He had helped him the one other time he had called down the most ancient of words - after the yellow-eyed demon had wrought such devastation before. He had been weaving the words into his mind ever since, knowing that the little one might be called to use them once again.

All of heaven waited.

What this simple, innocent child could never truly understand, was that the most ancient of languages was the language of heaven, of angels. Only a true innocent, exceptionally pure, a chosen one, could use those words and pull heaven's power into use on earth.

Heaven was waiting.

The faith of a child, this chosen one, was about to be put to the ultimate test.

"The most ancient of words are very special words. More special, even, than the ones you call your special words. They are very old, in fact . . ." He again looked into the bottomless brown eyes. Drawing a deep breath, he spoke again, waiting for Bobby to understand. "They are as old as the angels of heaven."

The boy's eyes widened and a small smile played around the corners of his mouth. He understood! Jalmari had spoken his last sentence in the ancient tongue, willing the boy to understand. And he did. As he had the Latin before, and the Aramaic after that.

"Why not Latin, Jalmari? Why the angel words?" A smile rose on the angel's face at the boy's name for the ancient language. And then, the boy showed why he was chosen. Why he was special. He lapsed into the ancient words, flawlessly questioning him further. "What words can hurt the evil?"

In the most ancient of languages, he was already fluent, already seamlessly able to connect his words. And he had made the connections needed quickly. Again, Jalmari's heart swelled for this small child. This special one.

"The evil there is very old, and very strong. He cannot be swayed with Latin. It will hurt him, but it will not send him back where he belongs. In hell." He finished his statement with a hard tone, considering the evil. As for the child's other question. "You will know the words to use when the time is upon you. The words will talk, they will come forth."

What the child could not possibly understand, was that he was indeed chosen.

He was the key. If evil killed him and turned the key, they would have full access to the veil. The final war would be upon them all.

But, with Bobby on the side of the angels, heaven itself would close the veil in this place, and the evil being would be lost within the portal.

Heaven waited for the chosen one to act now.

And the other parts of the whole, the sister and the hunters, their roles would allow the plan to unfold. Already, they had merged to protect the special child.

And the holy one. He had acted to save evil from turning the key. His role would not be forgotten.

Heaven waited.

With a soft hug and a whispered prayer, he held the small hand until he could no longer feel it. The boy was back.

The time had come.

Heaven watched.

* * *

Sam squared his shoulders, finding small comfort in the warmth of Dean's shoulder against his arm. His hands fisted at his sides. His chest ached. He pushed the pain away. His whole body shook. He took a deep breath, steadying himself and pushing the weakness away. They didn't have time for that.

This demon was powerful.

Too powerful, he suddenly realized.

"Dean. I'm not sure what we should do . . . this thing is powerful. It's really old." He was whispering to his brother while still steadily watching the evil being across the room. It advanced.

"Exorcism?"

"It might weaken it, hurt it, but I don't think it's enough."

"What, the force tingling there, young Skywalker?"

"I guess. I can just feel the difference. This thing is powerful. Earlier Bobby was chanting in Latin and it hurt him, but not much. And I did part of the exorcism too. Nothing. Except piss it off." He risked a glance back over his shoulder at Annie and Bobby. Swallowed.

"How about we just kick its ass and worry about sending it back to hell afterwards?" Dean pulled two bottles out of his stuffed jacket pockets, handing one to Sam. "Try the ritual again while we're giving it a holy shower."

As the demon within Larkin approached, he almost swaggered in his borrowed body.

Dean stepped forward. Sam unscrewed the cap on his water and started softly chanting the ritual, from the beginning of his and Bobby's remembered routine. He watched as a spray of water left Dean's hand.

A little steam escaped where it hit Larkin's chest, but the demon still edged closer.

"You think holy water can work on me, human?" His cold dark eyes studied them and he paused in his approach. He winced, but then stepped closer. "Just as those words you use cannot work on one like me."

He glared at the brothers as he inched closer. With a sweep of his arm, he divided them, sending Dean flying one way, Sam the other.

Sam was able to continue chanting, seeing that it had at least a slight effect on the thing. But he hit the floor hard, and scrambled to restart his soft chanting as he rose shakily to stand. He glanced over to see Dean scrambling to his feet.

The demon was no longer paying them attention, focused instead on the prize in front of him.

Bobby. Laying in Annie's arms.

"You gotta plan B?" Sam shook his head, still softly chanting, as he rushed over to stand beside the evil creature. Dean stared at him from the other side. They looked at each other steadily, then down to the bottles in each others' hands.

They both reached the conclusion at the same time.

Water flew from both bottles to pelt the demon. Steam rose in a satisfying hissing roar. But Larkin's head just shook, water flying in droplets from his drenched person. The brothers watched as he tensed, Sam's voice rising in a desperate attempt to keep the creature at bay.

"You fools! I cannot be affected by such things." He glared at them, black eyes shimmering in rage. From one side to the other, he stared at the brothers.

But then a shocked expression came over his face and he stared down at his feet. He was sliding backwards inch by inch. His eyes flew in front of him to meet the steady, pinched features of Annie. She grinned. Then furrowed her eyebrows in deep concentration, pushing her head forward in a sharp motion.

The demon flew across the room, where he had landed in a heap..

"Whoa, Annie. That was awesome!" Dean was looking over at the demon with a bit of awe on his face. But Sam was studying the girl at his feet. He crouched down.

"You okay?" He reached a hand over to grasp her free one. She was pale, trembling. And barely conscious. He glanced toward his brother. "Dean!"

The other man turned at Sam's panicked voice, crouching to study Annie. He glanced at Sam, then back at the girl.

"She was already hurt pretty bad. That bastard . . ." He let his words trail away. Her bruised, trembling form spoke volumes. That, and the sheet wrapped around her. Dean reached a hand out to feel for her pulse, gently rotating her head so he could place his fingers on her neck. Sam grabbed Bobby's still form, gently pulling the boy close to him as he stared down at the sister.

"Her pulse is weak, but it's there. Don't think she can take much more, though." His gaze hardened, but his touch was gentle as he pulled her to rest against his chest for a moment. He shrugged his jacket off, pulling a couple items awkwardly from the pockets there first. He placed it around her shoulders. He looked behind her to see the bunched up blanket she had used before. He balled it up and placed it on the floor, then gently lay her to rest on it.

Her eyes opened with a flutter and she looked up into Dean's face, then over at Sam, her eyes finally resting on her brother. She opened and closed her mouth, and a tear escaped to roll down her cheek.

"Don't worry. We've got him." Sam tried to reassure her with a soft voice, and she nodded, but her face was still scrunched in worry. As if on cue, the soft form in his arms started wiggling, pushing against his chest. He winced as the small hand connected with his open wound there.

"Time." It was a gruff whisper, and Sam twisted down to look at the small face. The eyes that pinned him weren't the ones he was used to, though. _What the . . ._

"Dean?" He looked down into the eyes again, and they returned the gaze, unblinking. "Uh . . . Bobby? Kiddo? You okay?"

With effort, he tore his eyes away to meet his brother's.

"What is it? Bobby?" Annie, alarmed now, was trying to sit up. Dean moved to help her, gently moving her into sitting. They both stared intently at the boy in Sam's arms. It was Bobby. But . . .

"Christo!" Sam whispered it into the boy's face. No response. His shoulders sagged in relief. But what the . . .

Blinking now, the eyes stared back into Sam's. The head turned to gaze at Annie. Dean.

"Time." Bobby's voice, but it was gruff, almost . . . pleading. The eyes. Again, they pinned Sam, who swallowed and actually flinched from the intensity. Bobby's brown eyes stared back at him, but it was almost like they glowed. Like they never ended. He could get lost in those deep eyes. The intensity was unnerving. And they were almost vibrating with a glow that was not natural. But, if he wasn't possessed . . . then what?

They all watched, oblivious to the now enraged advance of the deadly demon. Except Bobby.

The boy's head twisted sharply, pinning the demon with a stare.

"Time. Help now." Clearly spoken, but still said in a gruff voice. With a look of extreme concentration, he twisted his small form away from Sam's hold and stood gracefully, starting to speak again. Kind of. It sounded like he was talking. But it was no language they had ever heard before. Sam grabbed the small hand in front of him, accepted the shocking gaze as the boy turned it his way.

"Bobby?"

Those eyes again. He swallowed thickly. This wasn't Bobby. At least not the Bobby he knew. He gazed back at Dean, carefully avoiding Annie's gaze. He still held Bobby's hand firmly.

In consternation, he realized that the damn demon was still advancing. Pulling Bobby behind him, still with a firm grip on his little arm, he stood and faced the evil SOB. He spared a glare for his brother. _Let's just kick it's ass, he says . . . yeah, like Dean's plans always work._

The boy's melodic speaking was growing louder, more insistent. He had no idea what language that was. But Bobby wasn't stumbling over the words at all. He spoke carefully, concisely, like he knew what he was saying. And an interesting thing happened as Bobby's voice rose, the slightest hint of a tremble in the sweet voice:

The demon stopped its advance, glaring in their direction. Sam's eyebrows rose as he stared the thing down.

"Shut up! You stupid child! Shut up! You know not what you speak!" The black eyes darted around fearfully, then locked again on the child behind Sam. "How could you possibly know these words? Stop! No innocent, no chosen one, can threaten my power, my existence."

He moved to step closer, the action seeming difficult for him. With one last glare towards the child, he turned his dark gaze to Sam instead.

"Should I just take out your friends then? Starting with this one here?" He stared at Sam, who gasped at the white pain that exploded in his head. Angry, he glared at the demon, unconsciously pushing back mentally against the evil presence forcing its way inside his head.

"What's the matter, asshole? Scared of a little boy?" He grinned painfully at the monster in front of him. He felt the comforting presence of his brother beside him, but it was too agonizing for him to even think of turning his head to glance that way. With a gasp, he doubled over as pressure seemed to explode within his head.

"Sam? Sammy? What're you doin' to my brother, you son of a bitch?" A pause, and a heavy hand on his shoulder. He was thankful for his brother's protective presence, but at this point he felt like he was gonna die. He moaned in pain.

He heard his brother gasp. Dean, gasping? He forced himself to look forward through a pain-filled haze and found himself gasping as well. Clenching both fists, he realized that, yes, it had happened.

He had lost hold of Bobby.

And the little man had gone charging straight into the sneering demon's arms.

Well, shit.

* * *

Annie looked in horror as her brother ran over to that monster. She gasped in pain as she forced her body forward and sitting. She felt only slight relief when he stopped short of leaping into that monster's arms.

"Bobby! No!" It felt like a scream, but it was more like a loud whisper. A choked one. A steady hand on her shoulder drew her eyebrows together in confusion and she looked up apprehensively. Her eyes widened.

"It is time. Your brother must be protected." She stared at the shimmering figure now beside her and felt her anger grow.

"You think I don't want to protect him?" Her voice rose into an almost desperate pitch, drawing the backward glances of Sam and Dean. She met their eyes, looking pointedly to the side, inclining her head towards the glowing figure beside her. Like they could possibly miss it.

"Parts of the whole. You must join together to protect him." Dean and Sam were exchanging identical looks of shock. Sam, though, was trembling with pain and exhaustion. His eyes were almost glazed over and jaw was clenched in agony. Annie didn't know what to think . . . what to do . . . and her brother . . . Bobby! "Time is short. Now!"

"You must contain the evil, so that the most ancient words of the innocent one may work. Together, you have the power to do this." Annie was almost desperate with need now, wanting so badly to help her brother.

She exchanged a look with Sam. His dark eyes held hers for a moment, the pain still glazing his features. By now, she saw he was leaning against his brother heavily. Then she saw Dean's face. For just a moment, she saw a look of . . . almost pain, desperation even . . . flicker over those eyes.

"You're forgetting something, angel dude, I don't have any powers. No psychic freak thing going on in this head here . . ." He tapped his head. "How the hell am I supposed to be able to help them?" She saw his eyes flick to his brother as an arm tightened protectively around Sam's shoulders. Then his bright eyes roamed over to where Bobby had backed away to within just a few feet of the demon.

She felt intense frustration as her eyes followed his to study her brother. Bobby . . .

"Your strength is what they require now, hunter. Join together and allow them to pull your strength, your raw power. They do not have the endurance to use their powers otherwise." The angel almost glowed for one second, and then shimmered from existence before their eyes. A soft echo was the only reminder of his presence. "You must protect the little one. He needs you now."

Whatever Bobby was speaking to the demon had turned his attention full on the little boy now. Sam fell forward as the demon's torture finally ended. Dean held his sagging body until he could collect himself.

His dark eyes were bright as they turned on Annie a moment later, nodding at her slightly.

"So we have to do what we did before?" She nodded. She shifted, attempting to find enough purchase so that she could force her body upward to standing. She fell back onto her backside instead, groaning in anger and frustration. She punched the floor slightly with a balled fist, willing the tears away.

"Here." She looked forward to see a hand in her face, and followed the arm to see Dean's concerned face.

The men flanked her, holding her up. She wrapped a trembling arm around each man's strong shoulders and they moved as a group towards the demon. And Bobby.

Her practiced sister's eyes caught the tension in his small body. He was near the demon, who was glaring at him. And while his voice still whispered softly, his was rocking on the balls of his feet, fists clenching and unclenching in obvious agitation.

She wanted so badly to hold him. But something screamed at her to instead stay put. She rested her head against a warm shoulder beside her, drawing a deep breath and trying to fortify herself. She was so tired. And she hurt so bad.

But this was her brother.

And he needed her.

She squared her shoulders slightly, slipping her arms down to her sides. She grasped a hand from each of the men at her side, not daring to look up and make sure they were okay with this.

Her brother needed her.

That was all that mattered.

* * *

Dean glanced over at the small woman to his side, then over her head to where his brother met his gaze steadily. Each nodded slightly to the other.

In one fluid movement, he tightened his grip on the small hand grasped inside his. Then he stepped slightly forward, positioning Annie to the side and behind him. Sam joined in on the other side, effectively buffering the woman from whatever the demon's backlash might be.

"We need to hurry. Bobby . . . whatever those words are doing . . . the demon is starting to fight through it."Annie's voice trembled slightly and Dean squeezed her hand a little harder. "Sam . . . you already know what to do, right?"

He looked over to see his brother's slight nod and backward glance, small smile.

"I know."

"Okay, then, Dean . . . you . . . need to . . . listen." By now the woman was only producing a wheezing whisper, and he could feel her trembling. He glanced over at Sam in alarm.

"Annie, lean into us. You gotta save your strength." His brother's soft voice was comforting and commanding at the same time. "Dean, You're gonna have to open up all your emotions so she can feel them."

_What?_

He looked at Sammy. Who shook his head with that stupid grin on his face.

"Bobby needs us to hold the demon so those words can do something. Which I don't get at all. But, anyway . . . the only way we can do it is if we play off each other's strengths. This is what Annie and I did before. But, Dean . . . neither one of us is strong enough to do this by ourselves right now. That's why we need you." He paused and stared at him, dark eyes probing his. "I think what the . . . angel . . . was saying before is that Annie might be able to tap into you, somehow. So, um . . . you can be the muscle."

"I"m always the muscles of this outfit, geek boy." What a load of crap. Emotions. Yeah. He could do this. Had to help Bobby. Just think of what that bastard did to him. And to Sammy. And her. How could . . . doesn't matter. Anger's an emotion. Got plenty of that. Freakin' son of a bch. Asshole. What kind of . . .

"That's good, Dean . . .ahhh . . . okay . . ." She was talking softly, eyes still closed. He dared a glance at her. Then it hit him. Felt like someone was twisting him around inside. He closed his eyes, controlling his breathing. It didn't hurt, just felt . . . freakin' weird. Her grip on his hand twisted for a second and then strengthened. "Okay . . .Bobby, no!"

His eyes flew open to see what had caused her voice to cry out in terror like that. Oh no . . .

Bobby, no . . . This could not be happening. They had to do something.

"Do something . . ." He was surprised at how weak he sounded. He wanted to move forward and intervene, but he suddenly couldn't even hold his own weight up. He was in a daze as he hit the floor, knees collapsing painfully to rest on the floor.

The demon had surged forward and grasped Bobby by the neck, lifting him up with a look of intense concentration on his face. The boy's voice trembled but continued in a hoarse whisper for a moment longer.

And then he stopped talking, hanging limply from the outstretched arm of the demon, who smiled a slow, dangerous smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Bobby struggled briefly, screaming as the demon turned his head, focusing his twisted gaze on hurting him in some unseen way.

_Do something . . ._

_Anything . . ._

His eyes closed as his body started falling forward, blackness pulling him away from the unfolding drama in front of him.

He heard Bobby's scream echo as the darkness claimed him.


	23. Ch 22 The Key

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 22 "The Key"  
**Author**: Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**: The Key wages into battle.

* * *

**Ch. 22 "The Key"**

The mean thing, the bad thing, had him now.

His hand was around his throat and it hurt.

But he was saying the words, and he liked saying the words. They felt good on the inside and when he said them they almost tickled coming out. They were good. _Angel words_. He liked them.

Now, it was hard to say them. It hurt so bad. He kicked. Tried to hit. But the mean thing was holding him up high. It hurt. And he couldn't make him let go. He was still trying to whisper the words. But it was so hard. And his head felt like it was getting bigger. It hurt bad. His neck hurt bad. Everything looked funny now.

Hard to see.

Hard to breath.

So hard.

It hurt.

He felt heavy, almost like he was sleeping. Sleep would be good. Right now he was so tired. Sleep might be nice. But no! He opened his eyes. They were hard to open. He looked at the mean thing.

He had to fight. He had to try to say the words. Or the bad thing might hurt Annie, or Sammy.

He hurt Andy already.

That wasn't nice. It wasn't nice!

The bad thing was mean!

He screamed. Wanted to tell that bad thing how mean it was. 'Cause it was really mean. So he screamed. But the bad thing just looked at him. Looked at him real funny. And then it hurt so bad. And his head hurt so bad. And everything hurt so bad.

It hurt.

Annie.

He wanted Annie.

Or Sammy.

He screamed.

He didn't care anymore. The special words were swimming in his head. But it hurt so bad. He couldn't say them. It hurt so bad. _God! Make it stop hurting. Please!_

He felt heavy again. And sleep was such a nice idea. He could sleep now. His eyes felt heavy and it hurt so bad.

"No, little one. You must fight. Be brave. Think the words. Feel them." _Jalmari?_ "Soon, child, soon. The words are inside and you must speak them to release the power. Little one. Think the words and say them. Soon this evil won't be able to hurt you." _Jalmari?_ He felt the heavy hand on his forehead and opened his eyes. His special friend really was there. He liked the hand on his forehead. It was nice.

He had to be brave.

Had to help Annie and Sammy.

Had to say the words.

But when he tried to say the words, he remembered that it was hard to breath.

He looked at his friend, and Jalmari smiled at Bobby.

"It is okay, little one. It is hard to breath, but you _can_ breathe. Just speak the words. I am here. I will help you." His friend moved his hand and put it over the bad thing's hand. He couldn't see, though. But he could feel it.

He could breathe easy now. Not real easy, but a little.

He started saying the words again. They felt warm and sweet as he said them. Tingled. He liked the words. They were nice. Angel words. Special, like his angel friend.

He said the words.

He kind of thought the words said themselves, though. 'Cause he didn't think about what he was saying. He just knew what to say. He just said the words. And he felt the words. They made him feel good. Even though he hurt bad. The words made him feel warm. And good.

The words were there, now.

The angel words were all that mattered.

* * *

Dean had gone down hard, and if it weren't for his reflexes being in overdrive, Sam wouldn't have been able to catch him. As it was, he was just in time to ease him to the floor. He looked up at Annie.

"Should it have drained him that badly?" But she wasn't looking at him, paying attention to them at all. Her attention was focused straight ahead on her brother. He twisted his head back around, easing Dean to the floor as he did so. He patted his brother's shoulder gently a couple times, lingering a second before standing up carefully to stand with Annie. Bobby's screams had unnerved him, but seeing Dean unconscious had scared him silly. He just hoped he and Annie could do this.

He focused on Bobby, hanging limply from Larkin's long arm. He knew the boy had stopped speaking for a moment, and the demon had pounced. The first time Bobby had screamed, it had sounded angry. It was all Bobby, frustrated and furious. But the second time he screamed, after the demon did something unseen to hurt him, the scream pierced him straight through the heart.

Because that scream did NOT sound anything like Bobby at all. It sounded like a wounded child, screaming in pain and desperation. He noticed something now, though, looking at Bobby. He was limp, but he kept flexing and un-flexing his hands. So, he was still conscious. He eased Annie over a little, keeping his eye on Bobby. He saw the boy's mouth moving and had to stop himself from cheering the boy on. Now they just had to help him.

"He's going to kill him!" Annie's desperate whisper interrupted his planning. Her hand was resting on his arm, and he could feel her trembling as it echoed into his forearm.

"No. We're going to stop it. Come on, Annie." He grabbed her hand and pulled gently, getting them into position several feet back and to the side of where the demon was still holding the little boy's limp form. Moving on old instincts, he stepped slightly in front of her, sheltering her body while still affording her a view of her brother. He squeezed her hand forcefully and turned to face her.

"Gotta get this show on the road. Look at him, Annie. He's still fighting. His lips are still moving, he's still there." He pulled her hand forward a little, still squeezing, and shook it gently. "Time to do our JEDI thing."

He turned back toward the odd couple already engaged in battle and murmured under his breath. "And may the freakin' force be with us."

He opened himself up, letting the emotions of the last several days wash over him. He could feel the rage take hold of him as he remembered how badly Annie had been abused, when he thought about what Bobby was being forced to endure. They had to do this. They had to stop this before everything went to hell. Worse than it already was.

Slipping down the slope of emotional backlash, he fell hard as he remembered the dark fear of losing his brother. The relief of seeing his brother in the flesh and blood was almost overwhelming. Tears burned in his eyes at the backlash of intense emotions. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to keep the emotions open. What he really wanted to do was lock all the emotions away and try to forget about them.

"Okay, Sam. Hold on . . ." Her small voice trailed off after she signaled him that it was working. Then he felt the connection and looked back to find her eyes closed and face flushed in the effort to complete their task. And then, with a calm flash of recognition, he felt her, could feel her powers mingling with his own almost unrecognized ones.

He gripped her hand harder. His breathing was strained for just a moment, because this was stronger, more forceful, than before. More power, he could feel it and knew Annie could too.

Her eyes opened and he met the deep brown with an unblinking gaze as they took a deep breath in unison.

Despite his subtle attempts to shield her, Annie was neatly stepping beside him.

"Okay, let's do this." Her voice was a low growl and sounded nothing like her. His eyes narrowed and hand tightened on hers. Too much was at stake. They stepped forward, both tense. And then, the demon noticed them. It had all taken place within the space of a few minutes. But it seemed like so much longer. Too long. "Let my brother go."

Again, the low growl sounded nothing like Annie. The demon made eye contact with Annie, laughing as he did so. Sam glared at the thing.

"You heard her, let him go." He knew before it happened. Could almost read the intent within the evil mind. But the damn demon acted so fast they couldn't do anything about it.

"Whatever you say. I can come back to him." With ease that only supernatural strength could impart, he tossed Bobby across the room like a rag doll. His small body hit the wall with a sickening thud and Sam felt his rage build to a crescendo. Annie gasped, her face paling in his peripheral vision. He let go of her hand and she moved towards her brother, then stopped suddenly, her head spinning around as she desperately met Sam's eyes. Then she turned her furious gaze at the demon.

"Let me go!" He realized then, she was stuck, unable to move her legs. And she was furious.

With a shake of her head, brown hair fell forward, forming a curtain around her face. Her fists clenched in a fierce show of determination, she brought her head back, stared at the demon with a dangerous grin, and then jerked her head to the side. Larkin's body flew several feet back, landing in a still moving heap on the floor. Annie turned once more towards her brother, while Sam turned his attention on the demon in Larkin's skin, his fists clenched unthinkingly as he advanced.

Annie's assault resulted in a brief reprieve, but the demon rose quickly, anger clouding his soulless eyes as he turned to step after the girl. But now it was Sam's turn - and his rage had built to a boiling point.

He stepped forward, curving his own lips up into a feral grin, and stared at the demon, who now looked from Sam to Annie as if undecided who to deal with first. He finally turned to face Sam. Sam concentrated, trying to draw upon the power he knew resided in him. At first it seemed the harder he tried, the further from his grasp it was.

Then, he felt the gentle whisper of something. He followed the tenuous line within his mind, reeling it in. He realized this was Annie's doing. Somehow, her mind laid a trail, subconsciously realizing he wasn't able to draw upon this power on demand.

A moment later, his anger was boiling, and the demon was just staring at him with a sneer on his borrowed face.

He pushed, hard, within his mind.

The force seemed to radiate from him, an undetectable wave of psychic energy. It traveled towards the demon instantly, punching him with a force that threw its body into the air. But he landed on his feet, with a look that said "bring it on"

So Sam stepped forward with infinite concentration and drew from the reserve within his mind again. But this time, he used his head. Trading punches with a demon wouldn't get them far. It was time to go for the jugular. He could see Annie, surprisingly, leading an obviously exhausted Bobby towards him.

Studying the child, he saw the little mouth still moving. Still saying the words. Even though he was hurt. Badly. How he was standing, walking, speaking, was a mystery to Sam. He was just glad he was. Because that little guy was special for some damn reason, and they needed him to get this done.

He threw up a wall without even thinking about it, trapping the demon where it stood. He could feel himself growing weaker from the effort. The demon played his weakness, lobbing mental punches against him, wearing him down. His body felt heavy. _So heavy_. Then, a small measure of strength returned. He looked down to see Annie's small hand resting in his once more. He lifted his head slightly to meet her gaze. Endless brown eyes stared him down, communicating what words could not.

This was their last hurrah.

She turned her gaze on her brother, and Sam did the same. Together, they worked to keep the demon contained within a psychic prison. They fell to their knees at almost the same time, just moments later. Drained, Sam squeezed her hand, willing strength enough between the two of them to continue. His sight was starting to blur. Movement from his peripheral vision caused him to try and focus.

Too much at once.

He couldn't keep up.

Annie's trembling form leaned, or fell, into him and he swayed with the effort to stay upright.

Suddenly he did focus, though: Straight ahead, on the small child daring to step into battle with the demon. He watched, mesmerized and terrified, as the child stepped closer and closer to the thing. Its black eyes followed the movement.

Somehow, he and Annie were still keeping the thing trapped. But he knew it wouldn't last long. His body was starting to shake with the effort. Still he watched the little boy. His vision seemed to give out just as the room started to get brighter.

He couldn't focus on Bobby any longer, instead he was just trying to stay conscious. His eyes closed involuntarily as his body continued to shake.

He couldn't maintain the psychic prison any longer. But somehow, he wasn't surprised the demon still seemed unable to move.

Somehow, Bobby was doing it now. Somehow that little boy was rising to the challenge. He could feel the Being behind him tense, hand still heavy on his shoulder, and refocused on Bobby's almost glowing form.

Somehow, now, the boy wasn't just rising to the challenge.

No. The little man was literally rising.

Sam's eyes widened as his vision clicked into sharp focus. Because the little guy was rising, alright, right into the air.

* * *

The angel words were all around him.

He knew he was using the words to tell the demon to go far away. He didn't know how he knew the mean thing was something called a demon. But he knew lots of things now.

He knew what words to say. He knew those words would hurt the bad thing. And he knew that the words were a _lot_ more special than the Latin. He liked saying the Latin words, but they never made him feel like this.

He kept saying the words.

They were all around him and it felt safe.

The words made him feel like he felt when he was in a warm blankie and Annie was rubbing his back. Like he was so warm and safe he didn't ever want to get up. Only he wasn't lying down. And his blankie wasn't here.

But the words were here. And they wrapped around him.

And now he felt so nice he hugged his arms around his middle, keeping the words close. He smiled, even when he looked at the bad thing. Because the bad thing didn't matter anymore.

He didn't hurt anymore. The owies were still there, but he didn't feel them right now.

He only felt the words.

Nothing else mattered.

Only the words.

The angel words.

* * *

Awareness came with a flash and Dean sat up carefully, clenching his eyes shut against the jarring brightness.

Easing his eyes open a moment later he struggled to see what was happening. Something felt weird. Running a shaky hand through gritty hair, he studied the room.

He blinked in disbelief at the sight before him.

_No way. _

Larkin's body was on its knees, and Bobby was . . . was . . . Bobby was levitating several feet in the air. What the . . .

He struggled to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. But then the rest of the room crashed into him, drowning out his senses in an overwhelming wave of awareness.

It hummed.

The room hummed with energy. He felt it wrap around him like a soft blanket. The words Bobby spoke were everywhere at once. He heard them. Knew that Bobby was speaking them. But it's almost like he felt them too. He shook his head. Woah.

He pried himself from the scene, from the feelings, and looked for his brother.

He was on the floor a few feet behind Bobby. His eyes narrowed. Annie was beside him and both of them lay on the floor, a tangled lump of unconscious bodies.

He stood carefully, reeling from the energy vibrating within the air. He waded through it, slowly making his way towards his brother. He wasn't sure what was up with all this freaky energy in the air, but he wanted to make sure Sammy was okay.

Besides, it looked like Bobby had the bad guy covered.

It didn't hit him until he started walking towards them. The brightness that had roused him was emanating from a spot in front of Bobby. He had to shield his eyes as he walked around the battle being waged there.

Finally dropping to his knees beside his brother and Annie, he felt for pulses first. First Sam's, then Annie's. Both were strong and steady. He released the breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

"Sam... Sammy, come on man. Wake up... No sleeping on the job..." He was rewarded when the dark eyes opened slowly, blinking, before meeting his. He smiled a half-smile, half-grimace, glancing at Annie's prone form on top of his side.

Dean understood the problem and reacted before Sam could say anything. He moved over to the other side of the pair, pulling Annie gently into his arms so that Sam could back himself into sitting.

The change in position must have roused her, because a moment later she was struggling weakly to push him back. A choked sob warred with the trembling in her body and Dean could tell she was about to the end of her rope.

"Annie, hey . . . it's okay. It's just me . . . hey . . ." She stilled, raising her eyes to meet his and then averting her gaze quickly. But not before he could glimpse the tears fighting for release.

Her eyes found her brother quickly and widened, the brightness of the room causing her dark eyes to glow. He turned back to study the sight, feeling absolutely powerless in the face of it all. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam's mouth fall open.

"What is he doing?" Sam was obviously trying to make sense of what he was seeing. And really, Dean didn't know any more than his little brother. But a thought occurred to him and with a half grin he turned to Sam.

"Well, the size is right, and the force is strong. I'd say Yoda decided to join the party." He smirked, then a serious thought forced its way into his head. "Why is it I'm the only one that doesn't have the force, huh? I'm like Han Solo without the cool ship."

"Yeah, but you got the cool car, Dean. And you've saved my ass more than Han saved Luke and Lea combined."

Sammy did have a point. Besides, he was cooler. He met his brother's eyes and for just a second the weirdness of everything going on around them slipped away. _Man, it was good to see his sorry ass_. He felt the prick of something in his eye and blinked it away.

"So, um, what do we do now?" Sam had turned back to study the confrontation being waged between the little guy and the demon. Dean didn't have any bright ideas at this point. And frankly, his pride was a little beat up. It wasn't often a child could kick demon ass better than him.

"Watch?" Sounded like a plan to him.

Dean looked down at the woman barely moving in his arms. Her eyes were glued on her brother but her lips were moving in what had to be a silent prayer. She was so limp against him, he was sure she wouldn't be able to sit up on her own, so he stayed put.

The energy within the room grew to a fever pitch, trapping them all within its thick web. If they had wanted to move, they couldn't now. Limbs too heavy to push against the force, the power, of the words, all they could do was watch.

And as they watched, the room seemed to erupt in a frenzy of bright energy, blinding them with its brilliance.

* * *

The power within the room was complete. Jalmari watched in satisfaction, joining his brothers as they circled around the chosen one and the fallen one within evil human skin.

The brilliant glare of countless angels joining together temporarily washed the room in a blinding white glow of divinity. Wings rose in unison, creating a canopy of rippling protection.

The ancient words called to them all. Their heavenly powers joined as one, coursing through the atmosphere to center within the chosen one. There the white-hot power lingered in the small body, finally bursting forth in a brilliant strike. The words wove over and around the essence of divinity, the raw power of heaven.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

The small body of the chosen one rose magnificently, riding on a wave of power to its rightful place above the corrupt fallen one. With finality, the small one uttered the last words of the language of old.

With the words as guide, the essence of heaven shot through the possessed body, pushing the dark soul of the fallen one out of his host. Now in his true form, he gazed upon those who judged with disdain and fury.

Striking out in a dark cloud of black fury, the fallen one ripped through the chosen one as he descended to hell.

The guardians raised their heads and as one, prayed for the chosen one..

A lone guardian left his brethren as he leapt toward his small friend. The power of the ancient language left the small body with a soft sigh after the sudden assault, leaving the limp body to fall.

The boy instead found himself caught up within the safety of Jalmari's arms. The angel's wings unfurled in a stunning display of raw power, carrying both his strong form and the small one up into the air. He watched as his brethren exited this realm, standing watch in reverent silence from their own realm as he glided to land softly on the floor. His wings trailed behind him as he knelt with the small, broken body in his arms. Tears fell from his endless eyes as he whispered his own broken prayer to his father in heaven.

Angels did not often cry in despair.

But Jalmari left his divinity behind in a broken sob of grief.

His prayer mixed between the soft sobs and found an audience in heaven.

His eyes rose to await the answer.

He _so_ did not want the little one sacrificed. Even if his sacrifice meant that this battle had been won.


	24. Ch 23 Consequences

**Title/Chapter:** Ancient Words - Ch. 23 "Consequences"  
**Author**: Supernatural Mommy  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, OFC, OMC (child), OMC ; no pairings  
**Spoilers**: None really, unless you've not seen Season one, to Nightmare  
**Warnings**: PG-13 now, R overall for adult themes. This chapter some religious references: Overall rated for language, violence (including non-con acts depicted with OC's and torture) hurt/comfort, religious references (seriously, this story uses lots of religious references, so if that bothers you, please don't read) I will try to label each chapter appropriately  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'em pity, but new characters are my own creation.  
**Summary**: The battle's over, but who's making it out alive?  
**Author's Notes**: Sequel to _Look Into His Eyes_. Please read through my author's notes Here (from first chapter) and Here (Chapter listing and summary with some minor plot spoilers) if you need more information, explanations, etc.

**Chapter 23 "Consequences"**

She was a captive witness, unable to look away from the sight before her.

The last several moments had ended in a brilliant flash, leaving her elated. Then she saw the demon's final attack. She had watched her brother's small, limp body fall, only to be caught with a magnificent show of angelic power.

The divine being landed softly, wings shimmering behind him. And as he knelt with her brother, she'd never been so terrified of what she might find.

_Bobby?_

She pushed away from the comfort of Dean's arms, struggling to stand. His strong hand braced her elbow and she met his eyes in a daze. She ignored the tears that tried to blind her, instead pushing herself as fast as her wounded body would walk toward her brother's small body.

She was trembling from fatigue and naked fear by the time her body was able to drop bonelessly beside the one holding her brother so protectively.

She reached a trembling hand over to brush the wisp of bangs from his forehead, leaving her hand to rest there. He felt cool to the touch. She looked over to meet the eyes of the angel. In locking her eyes with his, she found herself unable to turn away.

Her own fear turned to disbelief at the sheer anguish in the angel's unending gaze. Tears cut glistening tracks along his chiseled face. Her tears mingled with his as they dripped between them and onto the floor. Her gaze flew back to her brother. He couldn't be . . .

It took almost too much effort to raise her hand, placing fingers along his neckline.

Nothing.

Maybe she wasn't in the right spot. With a sob of frustration, she moved the fingers up and down along his neck, trying to find the correct position. She just wasn't finding the right spot. That was all. And once she did, she would feel his pulse, feel proof of the life that had to still be within his small body.

The angel stilled her frantic movements, grasping her trembling hand and completely engulfing it within his own. She met his eyes tentatively. She heard the brothers behind her. But with her hand still in the angel's, the world slowly spun away, leaving only the three of them: Bobby, her, and this angel.

Within their own void, the angel spoke quietly.

"Our father has listened, dear one, and He answers." As he spoke, Bobby took a wheezing breath. She stared at her brother. But just a moment ago . . . she tore her gaze from her sweet brother and looked again at the angel, surprised to see such emotion etched into the face before her. "The little one will live. But his body has been through much. As has yours, sweet one. Recovery will not come easily."

She closed her eyes as one of his large hands cupped her chin, the comfort of that small touch a bit overwhelming.

"Remember your faith, and have faith in the small one as well. God _will _be with you." She sighed as the comforting touch, and the angel, disappeared. She looked back at her brother and then, startled, saw that both Sam and Dean were kneeling on the other side of her brother's small, still body.

"You okay, Annie?" She heard Sam's gentle voice, but he sounded like he was in a tunnel, getting further and further away. She blinked her eyes, trying to focus on her brother. But her eyes felt heavy, and it was becoming harder and harder to breath. Soon, all too soon, all she could do was feel: Feel relief that her brother was alive.

Then everything faded to black.

* * *

"Man, is she okay?" Sam was watching his brother tend to Annie, feeling for Bobby's pulse as he asked. Something wasn't right. Bobby's pulse was steady, but weak. And he was unconscious.

Just minutes before, the blinding light made it difficult to see what happened. But he did know that the demon had lashed out at Bobby as he was expelled from Larkin's body. That alone was enough to worry him as he looked at the pale little guy. His gaze crossed over to rest on Annie, pale and still in Dean's arms. His brother had lifted her slightly, feeling for a pulse.

Annie was almost as pale as the dirty white sheet that still encircled her. Her breathing had a short, almost panicked quality to it. Dean looked up, meeting Sam's eyes with a worried look.

"Her shoulder started bleeding again. And she's cold. Pulse is kind of erratic. I think she might be going into shock. We've gotta get some help here. How's he?" His eyes fell again to the woman in his arms. He shifted her limp body so it lay on the floor. He had a flannel shirt on, and the jacket he had taken off earlier. They had to warm her up somehow. That damn sheet wasn't enough to cover her, much less protect her from going into shock. He pulled the flannel shirt off and put it over her like a small blanket and then turned to find his coat. Sam's words stilled his movements.

"Do you have your cell, Dean? He's unconscious and his pulse is slow. I don't know, but I think that demon did something to him before it was exorcized. And he didn't eat while we were here. They only had a little bit of water earlier today . . ." Dean glanced over at his little brother, studying him. "How long were we even here, Dean? I kind of lost track of time."

"Two days . . . and I checked the cell earlier. No signal." Dean ran a hand through his hair, cupping his neck in a unattainable attempt to calm his nerves. He looked down at the bodies. Bobby's small pale one, Annie's only slightly larger trembling one. And across the way . . . _ohmyGod_ . . . Andy. "Gotta check on Andy, keep an eye out."

Sam just nodded wearily, a hand cupping Bobby's forehead, another holding one of his small hands. He didn't even glance back at Dean, instead blinking his eyes and trying to keep the sway from his suddenly trembling body.

"Aw, shit, man . . . he's in bad shape." Dean's heavy pronouncement was an echoing shot as Sam fell in a slump to the side of the Carvers. The dull sound of his head hitting the floor echoed in the now silent chamber.

Dean looked up from the gruesome site of a blood-saturated Andy just in time to see his brother fall to the side. The smack of his head hitting the wooden floor echoed within the room and his breath hitched as he scrambled up.

"Sammy!"

_Damn, Dean_ . . . okay Sam had already as much as said he hadn't had anything to eat or drink in the last two days, maybe it was all just catching up to him. He slid down beside Sam and rolled him over to feel for his pulse, and then his thoughts shifted to an all stop as he really saw his brother close up for the first time.

His chest was a bloody mass of cuts, some deep and some shallow. They formed some kind of crude design. That f*ckin' ba**ard, what the hell did he do to his brother? Blood still oozed steadily from a small but deep cut right in the center of it all, while above the bulk of the cuts was an older gash that had the oozing puss and deep red, puffy signs of an added infection. Man!

A scuffling sound drew his attention towards the center of the room. He swiftly drew his gun from the waistband of his jeans as he saw a woozy thug sitting up with a hand to his head.

"Don't move." He stared the man down, slightly surprised when the man looked at him steadily, and then just stretched. The man turned to face him more fully, holding his hands up slightly.

"Looks like you've got bigger worries than me, dude. I swear, I'm not going to hurt any of you. Hell, I was trying to help." With that, Dean's eyes widened. Then he narrowed his gaze and cradled his gun hand with his other, seriously contemplating whether or not to shoot the man. He thought of his brother's chest and his grip tightened. "Look, you need help. Ain't no way you can get all these people taken care of by yourself and cell reception's sucky all the way out here. I can go call for help in the house."

Dean thought about it.

"Maybe the other girl Larkin had is up to helping, I think she's a nurse. I can check on her too." George was nodding to himself, gruff voice working along with his thoughts. "She's at the house . . ."

"No, she's not. She's somewhere safe. And after everything that happened to her . . ." Here his jaw locked and he thought about what everyone else had been through as well. How could he trust this man? "You bastards hurt her real bad. Messed up all of these guys real bad."

Considering the abuse heaped on all these guys, he caressed the trigger of the gun in a thoughtful manner.

"Look, I'm a bastard, I'll give you that. But I didn't know what I was getting into here. I'm not a nice guy, but I don't hurt women and children, not on purpose. I didn't hurt these guys, I really didn't." George looked at him with a pleading look that was completely out of place on his rough face. "Besides, you need help. You can't do this by yourself. The tall one, there, I had to give him CPR early on today. Something's wrong with him, dude, seriously. The rest of them . . ."

He caught a fleeting look of some kind of emotion flick over the guy's face when he looked at Bobby, then his previous words registered. Sammy . . . CPR?

"What do you mean, you had to give my brother CPR?" His voice was a low growl, and dangerous. At least it was if he could hide the tremble. Damn emotions. He didn't have time for this. His hand was shaking while he waited for an answer. Bu the man suddenly looked awfully uncomfortable. "Answer the question!"

"Well, um, he and the little guy got away and were hiding. I was out looking for them when the little man there came running out all upset and said that Sammy wasn't breathing." He took a deep breath and Dean tried real hard to stop the trembling. "I went in and figured that he was having another seizure, had stopped breathing. He was turning blue when I got there. So I, uh, gave him CPR . . ."

"Wait, you said another seizure? He had one before?" He was eying Sam nervously, suddenly really scared for his little brother.

"Yeah, right after we got them all here. The pastor guy got our attention and we took him in the other room. He seemed to get over it pretty fast that time. But today, he was out of it for a long time afterwards." Dean was trying to digest this information, suddenly feeling awfully tired. "Look, just let me help. It's not like you have a lot of options here."

"Yeah, okay. Get the nurse." He explained where the girl was at and George started for the door. "Oh, be careful with her. She'll probably have a gun ready to take a chunk out of you."

George nodded once before heading out the door. Dean looked wearily down at his brother. Man. The kid never caught a break. Psychos and seizures just didn't mix well.

* * *

George walked quickly towards the small shack on the opposite side of the old house. He'd do this, call for help, and then hightail it out of here. Stopping just to the outside of the tiny structure, he considered his first move.

Element of surprise, disarm the girl, and then get her to the barn. He nodded his head crisply, he could do this. She was just a slip of a girl.

He picked up a stick and threw it hard against the roof along the opposite side of the building, and then quickly walked the few steps to the doorway of the place, sizing the girl up quickly as he entered.

She was mobile, which was surprising, wrapped in not much, his gaze shuttered against the details. He took in her splinted foot, splinted with sticks no less. In a split second he saw the gun held tightly in her small hand and leaned forward to knock it easily from her grasp.

She wasn't quite as distracted as he had thought. Her arm whipped out to club him against the side of his head, his sore head. He winced and drew back, stooping to pick up the discarded gun as he studied her.

"Look, I came to get you to the barn. A bunch of people are hurt and there's a guy there that said to come get you. You're a nurse, aren't you?" He met her eyes steadily.

"What's it matter to you? I don't trust you. I know you were with him." George couldn't fault her, really he couldn't. But he didn't have time for this. He lowered himself, resting his backside on his calves.

"Look, I'm an ass, I know it. But did I ever actually hurt you? No." She eyed him with so much venom he was actually a little impressed. Still, she was just a girl. He reached out to help her up. And that stupid right hook of hers took him by surprise. His hand flew to cradle his nose. His most certainly broken nose. That was gushing blood like a fountain. He glared at her. "Look lady, I don't care if you go to help them out or not, but that's where everyone else is and that's where the calvary's gonna ride in to save the day. So you goin' or not?"

She bit her lip, considering. She looked a sight. And were he willing to use more force he could have easily taken her to the barn whether she wanted to go or not. But he wasn't, not on a girl. Especially one who had already been ten rounds with the devil. He waited for her answer.

Their eyes met in a showdown of wills.

Neither truly backing down.

She was just a girl, he reminded himself. A girl with a mean right hook.

His blood dripped from between his fingers as he vainly tried to staunch the flow.

And their eyes still met in a contest of wills.

He'd be damned if he'd lose to a girl.

* * *

He'd assured himself that the threesome at his feet all had steady pulses. What was it with everyone dropping like flies around here, anyway?

He'd found too many cuts and scrapes and bruises on his brother and even little Bobby. But when he's shifted Annie's slight form to try and make her a little more comfortable he found himself wanting to puke at the abuse her body had absorbed. He'd applied pressure to the shoulder wound, wincing as she groaned pitifully. He looked over to Larkin's still unconscious form with a locked jaw and clenched fist.

The man had only been possessed within the last hour or so, but he had been hurting these guys long before that. He was a far cry from innocent. The ba**ard.

He eased up on Annie's shoulder, pleased to see the bleeding had slowed tremendously. His remaining shirt had come off, being the only clean thing he could find to bind wounds with. He bunched up a section of it and tore a strip from what remained to bind the dressing in place temporarily. His stomach churned in anger and he gazed again at Larkin, eyes narrowed.

Then his vision shifted to Andy and he decided to see if he could do anything for the other man. He made his way over slowly and crouched beside the man. Blood pooled all around his body, saturating his entire torso in a crimson stain. Man. He slowly peeled the blood-soaked shirt up, trying to avoid hitting the knife still sticking out of the man's back. He hissed as he caught sight of the wound.

It was still oozing a trickle of blood. It did appear to be a slow trickle at this point, and the fact that it was still flowing was a small glimmer of hope. He raised blood soaked fingers up to find the big man's pulse. It was erratically slow, a faint flutter against his fingers. But it was there. He felt cold, clammy, to the touch and he knew by now the blood loss had to have sent the man into shock.

He looked around for anything to cover the man with, eyes finally falling disdainfully on the tapestries along the wall. They were fabric. It was only the symbols stitched into them that gave him pause. Finally his survival instincts took over and he stood up, walking over to start pulling them down one by one. Arms heavy with the course fabric he crossed again to Andy, and started trying to situate the material around the knife, not wanting to jar it at all. Once Andy was completely covered, he again felt for his pulse. The same.

They would lose him soon to the blood loss and shock if he couldn't get help here soon. The man's short breaths accentuated that point. _Man!_ He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the short hairs and pulling hard in frustration. Shit! This was so screwed up!

A noise behind him had his hand on his gun, whirling around and pulling it out at the same time. He steadied his hand, locking both hands now into position around the smooth metal.

"Get the hell away from my brother!"

* * *

He'd screamed within his own mind frantically for what seemed like forever. The absence, yet again, of his innermost desire, caused him to careen, whimpering, into his own head.

But moving through the mental fog took far longer. He'd failed. He couldn't believe all his planning had still ended in this: Failure. It wasn't fair. He just wanted the demon back. That's all!

Maybe there was still a way. He felt the hilt of cool silver still in his hand. The master must have left it for him, wanting him to finish what he'd started. Maybe then he would come back. Maybe then he would give him what he wanted.

His eyes opened with a jerk and he turned his head quietly, absorbing the room. His special room, it was _supposed_ to be. Not fair. They took it all away from him. They took his demon away from him. Again.

He saw the other man pull the special tapestries off the wall and his head began to pound. Those were his! They were special! How dare he?

His gaze shifted and found the downed occupants on the other side of the room. Suddenly he was so happy. Yes! He still had a chance to fix this. Make his master happy.

He turned back to gaze at the other man and moved quietly. He clutched the knife close to himself and stood. He kept glancing at the other guy, but he was intent on helping that stupid pastor. He dropped soundlessly to his knees beside the trio of still bodies, contemplating.

The little one. He shook his head vigorously, no way. The little one had angels around him. Angels liked the kid, but they didn't like him too much, he didn't think. He perused the girl. Oh for more time. He reached out to glide a finger down her jaw line, leaving a slight trail of perspiration behind. If only. But no, first he had to appease his master.

He turned his eyes on the other, the tall kid. He straddled him, satisfied when there was no response. He leaned close, smelling the blood mixed in with sweat. He raised the knife, but was startled from bringing it down. He must have made a noise. Well, damn.

"Get the hell away from my brother, you bastard!"

That changed things a bit, didn't it. He sneered at the man, swiftly bringing the knife down to caress the man's jaw line.

"Ah, ah, ah . . . wouldn't want me to slip now would you?" He smiled. He had him now.

He'd make his master proud.

Dean stood with shaking hands. That asshole had a knife to his brother's throat. Why hadn't he secured him? He knew the guy was a psycho. Now his brother was being threatened, and it was all his fault. Son of a b**ch!

"Don't you think you sliced him up enough? Get away from him!" He tried to sound angry and mean. He blinked the frustrated tears away and clenched his jaw against the lump in his throat.

"I think, unless you want Sammy here's neck split wide open, you better drop the gun now." The asshole knew he had the upper hand. When it came to Sam, he couldn't take a chance. He dropped the gun, trying to keep it close enough to reach in case he had the chance. "Now just walk forward a little, there. Wouldn't want you having any ideas about getting to that gun, now would we? Just sit down like a good little boy, now."

He clenched his teeth together. Shit! How could he have messed up so badly. With an angry nod of his head he dropped to his knees. He watched carefully. He'd need to move at any opening.

"Great, now just be a good little boy and watch." The monster's eyes gleamed as he looked briefly down on Sam again and then flicked his eyes back to Dean. "I wouldn't try anything. Little brother might have to pay the price."

Man, it was getting harder to breath. _Focus, Dean_. He could do this. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He could do this. He watched the knife nervously. Glared at the asshole. Watched the knife again.

A light swipe and blood was swelling along a line there. A giggle. A freakin' giggle.

"This is fitting I think. You watching as I have my fun, and then I can kill him. It's all your guys' fault. I had everything in place. I just needed to complete the ceremony and my master would have granted me anything! At least I can make him proud now."

"Man, you are buckets of crazy. You know that? Demons don't make deals with little spineless assholes like you. You couldn't give him anything except someone else's life. You're a f**kin' coward."

"No! He would have granted me what I wanted! He would have!" With that and a dangerous frenzied look on his face, he bent over Sam and drew the knife along his jawline, lightly laying another line. He grabbed Sam's shaggy hair and pulled his head up, forcing his neck open. The blood welled and made Dean want to be sick. He raised the knife again, and that was it.

With quickness that defied his body's current state of agony, he slammed into Larkin. But the man was steadier than him, and he only succeeded in knocking him over slightly. The movement did dislodge his hold on Sam. The sickening thud as his brother's head hit the ground once again cut straight through his heart.

He turned his rage on Larkin - with a fast punch straight to the ba**ard's nose. But Larkin swiped him with the knife, finding his already sore chest. Man, should'a seen that one coming. He pushed the pain aside, intent on making this asshole pay.

If looks could kill, he'd be smoldering already. Too easy. After everything that prick had done, he deserved pain. Lots of pain. Not looking down to acknowledge the slick wetness running down his lower chest, he plowed into Larkin.

They landed in a whirl of arms and legs just beyond the trio of unconscious bodies. Trading punches now, he felt that stupid knife stinging his torso several times before he was able to finally knock it loose. It skittered across the floor.

He rained punches along the man's jaw and stomach, giving into a satisfying, fury-induced, adrenaline-pumping ass-kicking. He was exhausted when he finally rolled off the barely conscious man.

" No one messes with my brother." He turned away, disgusted with the lump of shit he had just beat to a pulp, disgusted with himself for not doing better - protecting them all better from this evil son of a b**ch. A sudden sharp pain in his shoulder caused him to cry out in pain and twist from the threat.

Shit! He didn't think the guy had any fight left in him. Obviously, he had enough. Enough to stick him like a pig. But as he whirled the air seemed too heavy to breath, the world spun around him, and the creep was suddenly falling, with a quickly spreading red spot right where his heart should have been. Huh?

He turned heavy-lidded eyes to see the other dude had returned, and was holding a gun straight ahead, pointed to where Larkin had been upright just moments before.

Great, the bad guy killed the other bad guy. People were crazy! His body felt too heavy, too . . . much. He landed in a heap on the floor, barely keeping on his behind.

He needed to get to Sam. Needed to check on Andy. Needed to . . . sit. He needed to sit for a minute. His body felt too heavy, and he was suddenly a little too fuzzy to think about why.

"Never liked that asshole anyway." Rough voice kept talking for a minute, but Dean couldn't follow the fast words.

"Help me . . . don't . . . leave . . . 's not like anyone . . . at least fifteen, twenty minutes. Help me . . . come on." Linda? Lisa? No, L . . .L . . . Lori. That's it. Man. She sounded ticked off. " . . . run away afterwards . . . Please. I can't . . . "

He felt soft hands ease him back towards the floor and he struggled for a second. Didn't help. The cold floor soothed his back, but it pressed in against his other wound there. At the same time those same hands were feeling his chest, his torso.

". . . this one's deep . . . pressure . . . now!" Suddenly the little hands were clear and some freakin' heavy hands were pushing hard against his chest. _Man, easy_. His vision cleared for just a second and he recognized the thug from before. Thug? Was helping now . . . huh.

"'M fine, help Sammy. Andy." Man his mouth felt like cotton was in it. Why was it so hard to talk? To breath even?

The other voice was already echoing from across the room. Hard to hear her though.

"This one's . . . worst . . . Might not . . ." He tried to turn his head. But his head didn't want to cooperate. So he listened to her voice instead. She was over on the other side of the room, so Andy. Not Sammy. Sammy would be fine. Had to be. Help was here.

This freaking nightmare had to be over now. It had to be.

". . . outta here . . . Not . . . jail. They'll . . . soon." The rough voice of the other guy. Leaving?

His eyes drifted shut sometime before the cold air rushed in and flashing lights invaded the dark chamber. He opened his eyes with a groan, forcing his body to the side so he could see what was going on.

Everything was still a blur. Voices echoed around him, the lights flashing left him feeling dizzy, and he could only catch words. When someone stopped to take his pulse he tried to push them away. "See Sammy first."

They didn't listen, and everything was too foggy. He couldn't get them to understand. Maybe he only thought he was yelling at them to help Sam.

They didn't seem to even hear him. A sharp prick in his arm caused him to try to see the person beside him. He tried to shake his head. But his body wasn't listening to him. His head pounded, drumming against the blur of movement around him, the blend of voices that he couldn't understand any more.

Someone patted his arm. And then everything faded to black.

* * *

_Removed from the flashing lights of below, the guardians gathered, prayed, and watched._

_The soft sound of reverent voices praying was broken only by the soft ruffling of feathers as wings tensed in elation, and in sorrow._

_The battle had been won, but the cost had been great. The humans had been worthy opponents, had fought gracefully, tenaciously. They faced their challenges with dignity and faith. Some faith in their Lord, others faith in each other. But in the end, a child had saved them all._

_The guardians prayed for healing, for faith, for hope._

_The humans would need all._

_Removed from the heavenly group, three guardians flexed their wings in agitation and frustration. One prayed that his charge would recover, retain his innocence in the light of all that had occurred. Another felt the soft whisper of heaven's promise. The holy one's earthly life was not certain. He did not know if he would usher him home or guide him back to those who loved him on earth._

_The last guardian smiled with a half-grin. He would be planting seeds. His charge wasn't faithful, didn't claim to be. But maybe someday . . . he folded his arms, flexed his wings._

_They all waited, in the shimmering light of their own divine glow, for their opportunities. The soft whisper of prayers in the background mingled with the sweet promise of heaven's answering song._

**_Soon._**


End file.
